This is what I looked like after Thanksgiving dinner:

But I’m too vain to post a picture like that of myself, so Izzy graciously modeled.

Thursday was delicious in every way–full of good food (my mashed potatoes and pecan pie rocked the house this year), good friends, thankfulness, and costumes. Yes. Costumes. Last Tuesday Frit sent out a text to her family that everyone had to come to Thanksgiving dinner “in costume … this is NOT a drill.” We were just expecting pilgrims and Indians, but we should have known better …

Frit’s nephew Cooper, came as mashed potatoes (his “favorite”) and his twin brother Cameron, came as a turkey.

(Thanksgiving turkey, pilgrim, and mashed potatoes with 2 pats of butter there on top)

We had a slew of pilgrims and Indians ’round the table, and even an Indian from New Delhi (I think she got confused). It was fantastic!

Frit went as an Indian, complete with a paper grocery bag vest, and I, as a pilgrim, with a construction paper bonnet. The table was filled with everyone’s favorite dishes, new recipes and old, friends and family. We ate, talked, napped, and then ate some more. Isn’t that what it’s all about?

The next morning Frit had to go back to work so I traipsed up the mountain-side looking for our Christmas tree (it’s tradition). It wasn’t the same without her, and it was 1000 times more snowy than it has been in years past–I almost slid down the entire mountain I’d just climbed up when I lost my footing on a slick patch and my feet were numb by the time I climbed back in the car–but success was mine, when I found the perfect tree.

(crappy cell phone picture of our undecorated tree)

That night, we ate leftover turkey, potatoes (mashed and sweet), and cranberries, all rolled up inside lefse (Frit’s family is from Norway and they make this every Thanksgiving and Christmas). Then we popped in Elf and got to decorating (another tradition). After three times through Buddy’s adventures in the “magical land called New York City,” we were done and the house was sparkling Christmas. I have yet to take a picture of the tree lit and decorated, but I’m on it.

On Saturday, we went to the Nutcracker (yet another tradition for the first Saturday after Thanksgiving) and have decided that the pas de deux gets longer and longer every year. But the Waltz of the Snowflakes is always my favorite with Arabian coming in at a close second. And, just for kicks and giggles, I thought I’d share a picture of me when I danced in he Nutcracker as a child. I can’t remember which dance I was in this particular year–Russian maybe? Yes, I think that’s right. Little sister Karly (on the right) was one of the party girls.

Saturday night it began to snow and didn’t stop all day Sunday. We’ve got about 6 inches and our yard looks like a winter wonderland.

And all I can say is … I love this time of year.