‘helping’ me put up the tree.

Something tells me this tree might have to be put up a few more times before Christmas itself.

This is only my third one ever, no make that my fourth, but I think Thanksgiving might be my newest favourite holiday. I love that it’s on a Thursday so there’s a short working week, I love that Black Friday is the day after and everyone runs out to the sales, I love that after all the fun there’s still a weekend of relaxation making it a nice long holiday, and above all else I *LOVE* that when all the fun is over, there’s STILL THE EXCITEMENT CHRISTMAS TO COME! I love Christmas of course, but once Christmas Day is over with, the whole of Christmas is too…

This year we stayed local and went to visit friends in the city for a fabulous home-cooked dinner, *fabulous* being the word.

Turkey comas merged into deep sleep, and deep sleep led us into morning in San Francisco.

Morning football and morning play took us to a lazy late lunch in the mid afternoon.

And from lunch we went to Union Square where we waited in the cold…

…for this…

…to become THIS!

Followed by a trip around the sales (and a new outfit for Baby Peach), ending up on the seventh floor of Macys standing in line to meet Father Christmas.

All of that and there was still the weekend to go.

Yes, I love Thanksgiving.

Why, yes I am. Here, let me show you my card…

Over the last few weeks it’s become our little weekend routine to lunch our way around the free samples at Costco and then head homeward with a $4.99 rotisserie chicken for supper. Yumm.

Even if I had all the money in the world, I think I would probably still take holidays in youth hostels. There’s something about them, what’s a good word…they’re cosy? Don’t get me wrong, posh hotels are very enjoyable and make for nice special treats (I will never forget our honeymoon, for example) but for me personally I feel like I can relax more truly in places that are more simple, less distracting and less pretentious. Places where I can go and make myself a proper cup of tea and wear my pyjamas to breakfast. I like camping and I like youth hostels. I like the back-to-basicsness of them; they push my reset button.

My husband was never much of a hosteller…before he met me, that is. When I first presented him with the idea of hostelling a few years back he reacted with “But people take guitars to youth hostels” and feared that evenings would be spent to the accompaniment of tuneless singing. “Oooh no, don’t be silly” I said and a couple of hostel visits later this stereotype was proven wrong. Not a guitar or other similarly stringed instrument in sight. Or should I say within earshot. “Hostels aren’t like what they used to be” I reiterated.

Until we stayed at Pigeon Point, that is. And what a fine example…

But in honesty, neither of us actually minded that much really. They did indeed sing songs well into the evening (Puff the Magic Dragon was a particular personal highlight *ahem*) but all it did was add to the charm of the place and made for some happy, happy memories. And shhh, don’t tell anyone, but I actually rather like it when people bring along their guitars (sometimes they’re really good…sometimes).

PS keep a little lookout at around 39 seconds for Oliver’s latest little party trick. He’s been doing this for a couple of weeks now and is getting rather good at it, clever little boy xx

At five-and-a-bit months old, somebody has developed a little case of separation anxiety…

But yes, this is where we stayed, Pigeon Point Lighthouse! Not in the actual lighthouse tower bit, but in one of the little converted lighthouse keepers’ cottages underneath. But it was lovely. Nice fresh air, beautiful scenery and a welcome little break from it all. We even got to see some seals at the bottom of the cliff which was very special, but not as special as showing my baby boy the proper big oceany ocean for the very first time xx

More photos will probably follow, but right now there are more important things to do like making a little person’s day as happy as it can be…

But *somebody* is being rather demanding this week and is REFUSING TO GO TO SLEEPY. At 5pm this afternoon I officially gave up trying to get Oliver to take his morning nap and at 6pm started the bedtime ritual so that he would turn in for the night. Easy, I thought, no morning snooze or afternoon nap today, talk about something being a doozy. Wrong. Here we are at 10pm and the little one STILL WON’T CLOSE HIS EYES. If photos don’t appear here within the next 48 hours it’s because I’ve been admitted to the local psychiatric hospital for extreme sleep deprivation. Fact.