Christmas Is Coming

Yes, we've all been bitten by the holiday bug this year. Let me first share a photo of this year's tree. I can't say it's much different than last year's tree, except that it's taller.

Our Tree, Christmas 2006

Speaking of taller, the boy is growing and growing and growing. Someday, I fear, he will be taller than I am, and he will come back to avenge himself for all the indignities he's had to suffer at the hands of his old man.

Here, as well, we have pictures of Stephen. On the left, one year ago. On the right, we have him NOW. Even though the camera frame isn't a perfect replica of last year's shot, you can see that he's obviously grown quite a bit.

By Jove, he's a little BOY now. Where did the year go?

As it is, the apartment smells of pine, and Amy's gone and made brownies tonight, too. How is a man supposed to adhere to any sort of diet in such an atmosphere? I haven't a clue.

More on our Holiday later. We've only got 15 more days until Christmas Day. Two weeks doesn't seem like a lot of time...


A Grab Bag of News

Today, I'm posting a smattering of things. I have been exceptionally lax in keeping this blog current. So here we are.

First off: this will be news for the folks back in PA. My brother-in-law, Adam, came over for dinner a few weeks back, and he was accompanied by his new significant other, Allison. The five of us (including Stephen) sat down to a dinner of London broil, roasted potatoes, and I don't remember what else.

As proof positive that Allison is more than just a figment of Adam's imagination, I've got photographic evidence of her existence. So Paul, this one is for you:

She's Real!

In other news, my car is slowly taking a dive into its own automotive grave. This, combined with the need for a large, kid-friendly vehicle, has given rise to thoughts of buying a new car. The last thing I want (or need, for that matter) is a car payment. Still, if I can get a good enough deal, as well as some trade-in for the Corsica, I should be alright. If not, I hear the rent on refrigerator boxes is a lot cheaper than apartments, especially in winter.

I'd like to get a small SUV (gasp!) or a wagon. My initial choice is the Scion xB. My hope would be to get a Honda Element, but I'd like to keep the MSRP down in the $15k range.

New topic. Venison. A co-worker gave me a nice amount of venison sausage last week. It seems that his brother is a hunter of some skill, and the man had recently shot himself a deer and had the carcass processed at a local butcher/specialty meat shop. Out of this process came 50+ pounds of various sausage, and my co-worker was charged by his brother to "get rid of it." So, he did, by spreading it around to everyone at the office.

I came away with two packages of sweet Italian sausage, and one package of a German-style sweet onion sausage. We ate the German sausage first, grilled up on the BBQ, and it was quite good and mild. There was a slight "gamey" taste, but this wasn't something we minded. Stephen, especially, seemed pleased with the meal. Then again, so far as he's concerned, if God didn't want us to eat animals, then he shouldn't have made them out of meat.

Stephen Is One Happy Carnivore

Given his appetite (which seems to fluctuate between that of a small bird and a large savannah-roaming predator), Stephen is growing. You can almost see it happen, if you stare at him long enough. He's nearly half his mother's height, and he's not even two yet. Then again, Amy isn't what most people would consider to be tall.

The Incredible Growing Boy-Child

He continues to expand his vocabulary. We're constantly wondering what word will be next. He is also, unfortunately, approaching the two-year mark in his life, and his attitude (which resembles a two-year old's more and more each day) reflects that, in his opinion, he is the bright center of the universe. So long as we bow down and worship him, things will be happy.

Needless to say, we don't worship him (at least, not the way you might worship a god), and we occasionally have differences of opinion. As parents, we tend to stick to our guns, much to Stephen's consternation. He gets over it really quick, though, so I suppose that's good. I'm sure he'll learn to pout by the time he enters his teens. For now, we can easily redirect his mercurial moods.