Solstice

I feel like I've been counting down to Christmas since July (I blame Pinterest), and now that the Thanksgiving leftovers have finally been dealt with, I feel ready to really get my jingle bell on. Let's start with our Solstice celebration invitations, shall we? (I call it Solstice because we talk about the seasons and welcoming back the light, but really it's just an opportunity to craft with the childrins and feed them and their parents too much candy.)

I found these plain wooden tubes at the craft store more than a year ago. I thought I was going to use them for Dash's birthday party invitations, but the Universe had other plans.

The tubes were delivered to each guest stickered with a "classified" warning and a postmark from the North Pole.

Shall we take a peek inside?

BOOM! We finally infiltrated Santa's operation and got hold of the Nice List.

And here it is. Our guests found themselves listed among such other luminaries as Mr. Harry Potter and Ms. Pippi Longstocking (who just squeaked by). 

(If you're interested, the Nice List was made by dipping sheets of legal-sized paper into cold coffee, letting them dry and then running them through the printer. I laid out two copies of the list on each sheet, and then cut them in half lengthwise to make a thin scroll. Does that make sense?)

The Feast

If I'm honest, I have to admit I was a little worried about celebrating our first Thanksgiving after losing my father. Thanksgiving was our jam. I'd show up at his house early in the morning, he'd pour me a glass of champagne (what?) and I'd plop down to watch the Twilight Zone marathon until it was time to hoist myself up to make the cranberries (which he refused to eat--it was canned or nothing for him) and then get dressed to greet whatever assortment of guests he'd invited that year.

You've never met a man more in tune with sentiment of Thanksgiving. He seriously felt it, and he made sure you felt it, too. So, celebrating this year without his phone call ("Gobble, gobble!"), without his toast, without his recitation of gratitude for all of his many gifts, felt a little strange. A little empty. But as the day progressed and our house filled up with our many beloved friends and family; as the food started to come together; as the children began to list all the many things they are grateful for this year; the empty spot in the pit of my belly began to fill. By the end of the night--spent barefoot in the garage playing board games with the kids--the empty spot was full to overflowing.

I think he would have been proud to see how we spent our day.

His watch.

Grown-up table.

Kids' table.

Dash and Baba in the calm before the storm.

Canned, in honor of Pops.

Gift

Hey! I made something! Lookit!

One of our favorite little princesses, Tori, turned two a few weeks ago. I've already made her three dolls (what? I like to make dolls & my only child is a boy), so I figured it was time to step it up. When I saw this toddler dress pattern on Pinterest, I knew what was about to go down.

I had made Baby the doll for Tori a few months before, so I already had the dress pattern. It was just a matter of ordering enough of the fabric (harder than you'd guess when you're me). Here she is modeling her new dress at the party.

And here's Tori in hers.

Right?

The Kid's a Baller

There's been a lot (a LOT) of yelling coming out of me these past few days. The kid always seems to get agitated and crazed as the holidays approach--just when my fuse is its shortest--and all hell breaks loose in the Engel house several times a day. It's been trying.

But in this season of gratitude I'd like to take a moment to kvell over the boy's many successes. Because no matter how much I'd like to throw him out the window, there is nothing for which I am more thankful.

On Friday we were invited to watch as our baby (who still looks like this in my mind) received an award for achievement in reading.

READING!

It's like a little gift from the universe just for me (and Dash, I guess. but mainly me).

But in case you're all, "NERD," I'd also like to point out that the boy led his team in RBIs this season. I only 85% know what that means, but Josh says it's good.

Speaking of Josh, look at how cute he is in his first team picture as a Coach.

In conclusion, the child is also an artistic genius.

OK, the end.

Boo, Motherfuckers

He's a zombie baseball player on the Pirates. Get it? No? Me neither.

But it didn't stop me from making him a "Dread Pirates" uniform.

I didn't want to offend any of our God-fearing friends and neighbors, so I proposed he be number "999" rather than the actual Number of the Beast. He declined rather vehemently, so by way of compromise he let me leave the number off the costume until after his school's costume parade. 

This picture terrifies me.

Here's a cute picture of our neighbor's dog, Bobo, in the Ewok costume I made him. Yeah, you read that right. Apparently now I'm making Halloween costumes for other people's pets.

We were invited to our neighborhood cul-de-sac Halloween Party/Chili Cook-Off. I don't really have a chili recipe I'm confident enough to compete with, so I went the cupcake route. These are vanilla with just a hint of Vampire blood.

These are chocolate with crumbled-cookie graveyard dirt & marzipan bones. Sculpting with marzipan is my new jam. It's like Fimo, but you get to eat it. 

Our neighborhood is the shit when it comes to Halloween. This head was just dangling in someone's entry.

The note in the pocket says, "say no to crack."

Another severed head, just hanging around.

This neighbor constructed a miniature burning city on their lawn. I mean.

This guy was hanging out in front of his house just looking awesome.

Crazy cat lady. If I was smart I would have duct-taped our psycho cat, Winnie (who--despite a strict Prozac regiment--takes poops in our downstairs bathroom sink), onto her back and let her take him home. Next year for sure.

In conclusion, our neighborhood wins at Halloween.