
I dream of a Christmas when all family members will magically show up at my house with their stockings and hang them from my fireplace(s). If I have counted right, that would be twelve stockings, plus mine, making thirteen; we'd probably have to hang some of them downstairs.
Fall is definitely in the air and I'm ready for boots, sweaters, good cooking smells, and the end to mowing season. It's really been a struggle to keep the lawn mowed because each week something different goes wrong with the mower or weed whacker. By the time we get through all the possible problems, the boys will be expert at small motor maintenance. I try to stay clear of it and let Grandpa provide guidance.