On Thanksgiving, Mom gathered to give thanks that none of her children became crack-addicted reality show contestants with an eye for the pool boy. Okay, so she doesn't set the bar high, but at least we can meet it.

Gabriel will take requests, but it all pretty much sounds like "B-I-N-G-O" anyway.

Oh, we're the turkeys, eh? Need I remind you of the person who gives thanks for bathrooms?

"...and then Thomas was derailed after a sick little kid placed pennies on the tracks, and Thomas CRASHED in a horrible fireball from the illegal nuclear cargo in his cars that obliterated a nearby village. What's the moral of this one, Gabe?"

Really, who needs intructions in Vietnamese? Darn you, do-it-yourself furniture makers and the uneven wood you curse me with!

*tweet* Flag on the play. We have a double-tickle violation. That's 15 minutes extended playtime before bed. *First down!*

After Stephanie helped color my hair, we had a pajama party, ate ice cream and talked about boys.

Jeff Neutron: Adult Genius.

The copper finish looks like a million cents!

A.J.'s first visit with Santa went well, what with the gurgling and all.

No, Gavin, you can't have a Hasbro Box O' Tacks™; you'll poke your eye out, kid! Ho! Ho! Ho!

No Batman costume is complete without a utility belt containing super bouncy balls and parental grappling hook.

In Greenville, Miss'ippi, with Granddad, Sadie (a.k.a. Nuna), Dad, my great aunts Nita and Boots and Boots' husband, Larry, Oct. 2004.