Pictures! For Story, See Cory's Post Below

Here's Cory, ready to make the cut!

But first! Here's me, looking oh-so-stylish (tying the blanket there meant I didn't have to carry it...) with Henry, who always looks stylish. You can't really tell here, but he had pants on over his sleeper and they're bunched up above his knees and look incredibly dorky. We are awesome parents.

And here's Cory, having chopped that tree down in remarkably manly fashion, taking in the delicious pine-scented air.

Packing up our boy, the tree tied carefully to the top of the (still shiny!) car

Harry and the tree, pre-decorations, as he chews on the blanket covering his pink Bumbo seat.

Me decorating! Again with the stylishness. Check out those socks! They are festive and warm and fuzzy, especially important to cold feet on cold hard floors.

Decorated! Stockings hung and everything. These are the hand-knitted ones Cory was talking about. :)

A closer look--Cory's was made by his wonderful Grandma Petty; mine and Henry's were knitted just this year by his Aunt Nancy, who is also wonderful. :)

Last but not least. I was shy and dorky and sneaky and took this through the car window; hence the blurry something-or-other along the bottom left. But hey, I like it. It's Santa, after all!

Hey! I'm Posting Here!

 So I have been commisioned to post about our Christmas Tree. It is a douglas fir standing at a majestic 5 feet and a handful of inches above ground, magically obtained through seasonal Christmas surprise!


There is quite a difference in how my mum's family celebrated holidays back in the day and how my dad's family celebrated. Basically, My Mom's family was very big on the excitement of the day coming and celebrating and making the day great and present-filled or tradition filled. My dad's family was like "Oh yeah, John, it's your birthday this month, what do you want?" At least that's how I saw the two families growing up.


My own family leaned toward the traditions of my mom's family. We all have matching hand-knitted Christmas stockings ("we all" means everyone from my grandparents down to every single great grand child) I remember all the lengths my parents went through to make sure we had good holidays. I even remember a sleigh ride and seeing real reindeer one year on Christmas eve. I was the typical kid who never slept Christmas eve for the excitement. Then I went on a mission.


Missions are great, don't get me wrong. They are great in all the right ways. But they ended up killing the excitement of holidays pretty well. I remember walking down the street in Uruguay and have my Paraguayan mission companion remind me that it was the fourth of July. I remember my Christmases were hallmarked with and extra few hours of not working and a 20 min phone call home. Birthday packages came weeks or months late and missing items. All other holidays didn't exist for missionaries. Coming home, I eventually found myself saying "hey Mom! its my birthday in a couple months. Can you help me buy this thingywhatsitcalled? and the actual day was nice but had missed the magic (?) of having someone else orchestrate how your day was going to be really special.


Being married, the nonchalant attitude toward special days is dangerous. For example. I remember the day my dad forgot his anniversary*. Somehow the relief society found out (....mom?) and my dad received several kind "reminders" from the sisters the weeks before Oct 30 for years afterwards. I am not totally convinced calling John Stephens in mid-october was not an official RS calling. While I didn't, haven't, hopefully won't repeat that grave a mistake (good one dad...), I have noticed something lacking in my new little family's celebrations.


I saw our Christmas going down the same street this year as it did last year. No decorations, no tree, no lights. But I also know more about Charisse. And how those little sighs and longings for festivity actually mean something! So I decided to try harder this year.


With a little Christmas magic subsidizing our strung budget, I started packing Harry up and told Charisse that we were leaving. She feigned annoyance at me not telling her where I was dragging her, and she feigned even more annoyance when I said it was an hour away and she feigned even more annoyance when I had to turn around to get cash out of out machine. Eventually, though, she caved and guessed that we were going to... CUT DOWN OUR OWN CHRISTMAS TREE!!!


We got there an hour later and drove up to this little festive home in the hills a bit north of Santa Cruz, CA. Harry was all bundled in his bomber jacket and we waited in line to figure out how it all worked. I grabbed a hand saw and we were off! we climbed a hill, crossed a stream ventured into a grove of trees here and there. That tree was too tall for our budget, that one looked like a dog toy, that one Harry called "obtuse" (whatever that means... He wouldn't elaborate...) Eventually we found one. It was perfect. The right size, shape, race, everything! but then we saw a better one so we cut it down and dragged it to the car where latinos tied it to our roof. We drank hot cider, paid the troll under the bridge, and I may as well have shot and killed a trophy deer the smile on my face.


Then we drove an hour back, I almost fell asleep so Charisse drove the rest of the way and did not crash. We got home, put it up, decorated it, called my dad to tell him about it, learned we were probably killing it because we didn't chop off the base before putting it in water, did that, and now we have a Christmas tree! I love it. It is the best tree I have ever had and among my best Christmas surprises.

*correction = birthday

Two Completely Unrelated Things

First, this photo. Look familiar? My fabulous former roommate, known internet-wise as Ci, decided to give baby Henry some lovely blue eyes. Thanks, Ci! They're almost as lovely as the real thing. :)

Second, dinner. I tried a new recipe tonight. It was simple and tasty and warm and is going to be added to the list of Things We Eat (which I keep for those days when I can't think of what to make and need to be reminded of options). I give you:

Cabbage Patch Soup

1/2 lb ground beef
1 1/2 c. chopped onion
1/2 c. sliced celery
2 c. water
1 can (16 oz) kidney beans, rinsed and drained
1 can (14.5 oz) stewed tomatoes
1 c. shredded cabbage
1 t. chili powder
1/2 t. salt

In a saucepan over medium heat, brown beef; drain. Add onion and celery; cook until tender. Add water, beans, tomatoes, cabbage, chili powder and salt; bring to a boil. Reduce heat; cover and simmer for 20-30 minutes or until cabbage is tender.

Then it says to top each bowl with mashed potatoes, if desired. We didn't, mostly because I forgot, but I probably wouldn't have anyway, because I wouldn't have wanted to make them and the ones we have in the fridge were garlic, which might have been weird.

Anyway. That's all. There will be a post about our Christmas tree soon, from Cory. There will, of course, be pictures. :)

The Jacket

I found this bomber jacket at a thrift store back when I was pregnant and simply had to have it. Since Harry is finally big enough to start wearing it, we felt that some documentation of the event was in order.

(Someday I will have the skills and/or camera and/or editing software to make it look like his eyes are actually, beautifully blue. Alas, it is not this day.)

Holding On For Dear Life

I know, I know, I'm posting kind of obsessively, but the blog is still all shiny and novel for me. We'll see how long it lasts. Then again, the sort of reflected vanity I have in my son makes me want to take lots of pictures of him and share them with the world, so I may very well continue (very often) making little photo posts like this one, because I just can't help myself.

Henry's first ride in a shopping cart...sans car seat :)