Thank God for Santa Claus

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The Critter has turned out to be a headstrong little monkey. I think she's really starting to feel comfortable in her three and a half year independence, and the stubborn streak she inherited from her mother just compounds things. Ah, but about a week ago, I realized that I had an ally in Santa Claus. The Critter has already written her letter to Santa, telling him what she wants for Christmas. She spent an entire evening intently looking through a couple of catalogues and carefully circling those things she was interested in (a sleeping bag, a pink castle toy, anything with Dora the Explorer on it). As we put the letter into an envelope and told her it was time to get ready for bed, she put up her usual protests: Critter: I'm not tired... I don't want to go to bed... I want to stay up with you and Mommy! Me: You know, when I was little like you, I was actually one of Santa's elves. Critter: Really?! Me: Yep. I still have Santa's email address and phone number. Critter: Call Santa! Me: Would you like me to call him and tell him you're not being good and going to bed when your Mommy & Daddy ask? Critter: NO! I'm good. And she scurried off to bed before I could blink. Since then, I've been getting a steady stream of guidance from Santa. "Santa wants you to pick up your toys." "Santa wants you to bring Daddy a Diet Coke." "Santa wants you to find the remote control." Santa rocks.
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Novel writing over (for now)

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It's November 30th, and we've finished our November National Novel Writing Month challenge. And the score is: 1 loser, 1 winner. Giuia: 50,195 words *WINNER* Ken: 30,313 words *loser* That's right. I lost. I bow before the prolific magnificence that is my bride, who rightfully basks in the glory of her achievement. I could offer excuses of how my work schedule has left me depleted and unable to complete my daily writing allotment. How I've been travelling for three out of the four weeks this month. I could say those things, but I won't. Because the Queen has told me I'm not allowed to. Then she stuck her tongue out at me.

Giuia
If you want to read the completed (or incomplete) work, well... you probably can't. The objective here was to write quickly, not necessarily to write well. And besides, we may have named a character after you, and we wouldn't want you to get a big head, now would we?
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Happy Thanksgiving to you. Unless you're a turkey

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I was having a conversation with one of my British colleagues about Thanksgiving. I told him that I was taking it off, because, hey, we won the war, so I'm celebrating all the American holidays, even if I'm in the Old Country. He wasn't terribly familiar with Thanksgiving, and asked me to explain it. I gave him the 3rd grade version - the starving colonists were brought a bunch of food by some friendly, neighborhood indians, and they all sat around and stuffed themselves in a celebration of thankfulness. From this we derive our annual event of eating too much and passing out in front of college football on the TV. Brit: And in return you gave the natives some beads, cholera, and smallpox? Me: Yes. But we have a whole other holiday to celebrate that. Columbus Day.
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