Christmas Eve with a two year old in the house. It's midnight. The critter's finally asleep. Quick - everyone out of bed. We have to go build her Christmas presents. This is our first time at this, really. I mean last year she was just 18 months old, so she was just really excited that Mommy and Daddy were actually encouraging her to tear the pretty paper. The year before, she was pretty much content to watch the pretty lights and drool on anything that didn't move too fast. So we went all out: every time we go to someone's house or to her school where they have one of those kitchen playsets, she elbows us out of the way and makes a beeline for the make-believe microwave cutlets. (Which is really odd, seeing as the Grady household hasn't had a microwave since the elder Bush was in office.) My bride went out and bought this modern megalith of a kitchen set called "The Complete Kitchen" (batteries and accessories not included). The box was mammoth. So now it's midnight, I have a diet coke, 3 screwdrivers, a set of allen wrenches, and my Swedish-English dictionary handy. Ah... But you see all those nifty silver pipes crooking this way and that, holding the bits together? Oops. The elf at the factory apparently had a bit too much gluwein and left those parts out. I have the base. I have the fridge/oven-y bits. I have a sink. And a bunch of loose shelving. And it's now about three and a half hours until the monkey smells Santa and comes running downstairs. Fortunately, we purchased enough plastic food to feed a plastic legion, and we're pretty sure she'll be more than content with that, no doubt, along with her other main present. A doll & doll's stroller. I read the handbook they handed out when they gave her to us at the hospital. This wasn't covered. Ain't parenting fun?

I figured I should put up the Thanksgiving pictures before Christmas actually showed up. (I've still got 8 hours). Flying half way around the world with a two year old - that's my idea of fun! Thanksgiving was in Tennessee this year, with the deer, and the turkeys (wild, on the lawn, and cooked, on the table) and goats. That's right. Goats. My parents now own 18 goats, 3 dogs and random herds of wild critters roaming over their mountain. These are the same people who wouldn't let me have a pet growing up. Anyway. enjoy the pictures The pretty town hall, by the way, is in Carthage, TN - that's the home town of Al Gore, you know. And still a solid Republican county.

Here's a little happy story for you - My trip last week to California bumped me up into the "1K premier exec" status on United. That's like the gold card for gold card holders. Whoopee. I struggled, but couldn't figure out exactly what that did for me, other than signify I've spent too much damn time in an airplane. So on the way back, I used some miles and upgrade my seat to business class for the SFO -> London trip. I get on the plane just fine, get my crap pulled out and am playing with my new iGo power supply (which lets me plug my laptop into the plane - cool, in a geeky kind of way, huh?) before take off, and here comes a flight attendant. "Mr. Grady?" Oh crap. She's holding a new boarding pass. I'm probably sitting in some schmuck's seat who actually purchased it vs. cheating with miles, and I'm on my way back to the cheap seats and a semi-warmed slice of in-flight chicken loaf. "Here's your new seat. Merry Christmas." Holy Seat 1F, Batman! First Class! They had an empty space up there and more people clamoring to squeeze into the back of the flying bus. So they pushed the single-seat-traveler with the most seniority up for free! Ok, so other than the fact that the normally upright uncomfortable airplane seat could become a horizontal uncomfortable airplane bed, not much was different between business class and first class. But I was there. I had arrived. And - most importantly - I was first off the plane when it landed. I consider this just United's way of righting the balance for losing ALL of our luggage on the last flight out to the states...