My mom, Julie Homan, came to visit us over Thanksgiving weekend. The last time she was here was for Barkus 2005, so she hadn't been here since the flood. She was the first person to visit our renovated home, and it was great seeing her. Here you can see her playing Christmas songs on our piano with Kalypso, and me playing guitar. It's too bad her grandkids live so far away from her in Omaha, Nebraska. She doesn't feel like she knows them very well, and that they don't know her.
It's hard for her to visit us, as she has to leave behind her overweight dog Peaches with neighbors. And it is hard to live at someone else's house. I know it's hard for me to live elsewhere. Anyway, after a great Thanksgiving dinner at Howie's, we were home rolling out gingerbread dough to make, of course, gingerbread people. My mom kept repeating over and over that I needed to divide the dough, and I finally said "Christ, I hear you already, and look, I've divided the dough a long time ago, so can you please quit saying that." Then I said something about her being judgmental, as she had previously been repeating that we had too many animals and we don't take care of them. Well, she went to her room upset, and the visit wasn't the same after that. I doubt she'll be anxious to come back anytime soon, and God knows I dread dragging all four of us and two dogs in the car for 20 hours to Nebraska. So mom, if you get around to reading this, I love you, and I'm sorry I lost my patience about the gingerbread. But you should know we're thinking about getting a third dog.