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As the last hours to Christmas tick down, the Smith Barnes clan sends happy tidings to all of our family and friends. May your celebrations be snow-filled and warm and full of good cheer.
Last night we had the good fortune to attend a caroling party, the perfect way to ring-in the holiday. Nothing makes you feel like caroling more than snow (and champagne punch). Harry, I think, was quite convinced we were trick-or-tr
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eating, trying to enter each house for the goods as we carolers sang. Mostly, he thought we were looking for "Carol-ine," one of his girlfriends. He kept asking me, 'where is she?' A big, big thank you the Klines for hosting such an amazing party (if you have never put brie on a ginger cookie, well, I can tell you, you have not lived. Calorie free, these treats, they are not.)Harry has today been bellowing Santa's name. He is currently refusing his afternoon nap and, best I can tell, is trying to
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figure out if there is still time to get on the naughty list. We went sledding again (our hill is quickly turning to ice, it was nice while it lasted) and Harry debuted his new blue boots, snow pants and gloves. Yes, Virginia there is a Santa Clause..jpg)
Soon it's off to the church pageant (we're watching only) and then home for a lamb roast. Pictured here are my angels trying this morning to convince me that they've been good. That and five bucks will buy you a bridge.
All together now "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas....."
3 comments:
Thanks for your greetings. Here in the woods of western Maine we've got plenty of snow, and those 50% of us who are not on food stamps are warm enough.
Maine has the oldest population in the nation. We spend a lot of time attending funerals. In general we don't tend to cheerfulness, though the funerals are cheery enough because we're all kind of grateful that it isn't us up there under the cross that everyone's telling lies about.
But, if not terribly cheerful, we are grateful; and topping the things we're grateful for is that it you, not us, who are engaged in bringing up the next generation -- and doing a great job of it. Not that we envy you (we've lost a lot of our marbles, but not that many!).
Carry On, and stop worrying about Prince Harry's pink snowpants. It's about time we had a gay Barnes.
=Bill=
Gay ok. Hot pink pants? No way.
Okay, that is way too sweet. Tell Harry his girlfriend is back in town and ready to play!
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