Thanks be.

Three houses and two dinners later...

Made it through one more Thanksgiving. I love how every year more and more secrets surface. Will I ever really know everything about my family? I don't think I want to. My cousins have A Christmas Story on in the background. I swear, we've barely digested the various casseroles and desserts, and we're already debating real vs. fake Christmas trees.

In other news, I saw Four Christmases last night. For a holiday movie the night before Thanksgiving, it wasn't too terrible. Go to a matinee though; it's not quite worth $9.25.

The most productive part of my Thanksgiving break has been teaching my four-year-old cousin to say "The Alabama tax system is the pits." Our treasurer, Kay Ivey, will be receiving a phone call tomorrow. I'll report back. Ten-four, over and out.

L.

Love, whether newly born, or aroused from a death-like slumber, must always create a sunshine, filling the heart so full of radiance, that it overflows upon the outward world.
-Nathaniel Hawthorne

Appreciate Brand New.

A new blog for a new brand of sanity. You understand.

So, anyway, I have this theory. If we legalized drinking, but outlawed classic literature, we'd have a bunch of sober teenagers who were well-versed in Dickens, Austen, the Bronte sisters, and Hemingway.

This kind of brilliance doesn't come easy.