Hannah's new cousin is here!

This afternoon at 1:58, sweet little Miles Jay Grimmius became a resident of Owatonna, MN, and a member of the Grimmius and Potts families. Miles weighs 8 pounds, 2 ounces, and is 21 inches long. He has his Uncle Will's wavy blonde hair, and his daddy's chin dimple. Since his physical characteristics favor the Grimmius side of the family, we're confident his personality will mimic his mommy's, which means it's payback time! Only kidding. It was a thrill for us to see and hold Miles just a few hours after he was born. The little guy stuck out his tongue, licked his lips, cried "WAAAH!", and managed to open both of his eyes at the same time to see what life looks like outside the womb. Grandpa Dave, Grandma Doreen, and Uncle Will met Miles this afternoon, too. Everyone is in awe of Lil' G/Miles, and grateful to Tanner and Annie for letting each of us hold him several times.

Mommy Annie cuddling Baby Miles

Uncle Willy G is a naturalThere's fluffy blonde hair under the baby hat!Miles and Grandma Doreen
Grandpa Larry takes a look
Grandpa Dave likes what he sees

Grandma Jill checks Miles' tonsils

Mom, Dad, and Baby Boy

Waitingwaitingwaitingwaiting

It's just another day-after-Thanksgiving-Friday-morning here in St. Peter. Yup, nothing to do except relax and enjoy a vacation day from work. NOT!!!!!!!!!!!! Dad/Larry/Paco/Grandpa and I are waiting patiently for another call from Tanner to update us on baby progress. It's excruciating! He called two hours ago, so it should be time for another report from the front lines. I'm trying to stay distracted so I don't notice my stomach flip-flopping.

Here's a distraction: I just now learned how to spell "excruciating". Up until this blog entry, I'd spelled it with a 't' in place if the second 'c'. Well how about that?? Now that you're distracted, too, Dad told me yesterday he found out the meaning of "gin" as it relates to "cotton gin", a machine used to separate cotton seeds from the cotton bolls. Not balls. Bolls.

He asked me if I knew the origin, and I said, "Yes, it is a shortened form of the word 'engine'." He's been in shock ever since, stunned that I knew something that he didn't know. Another little known fact about the cotton gin is that Eli Whitney patented it, but he wasn't the sole inventor. A plantation owner named Catherine Greene helped him along in his design. I'll bet Eli Whitney was surprised that Katy could help him figure it out, since she was only a woman. Read with dripping sarcasm, please.

Another topic: Yesterday's Thanksgiving festivities in O-Town were just right...good food, conversation, and for those who think Thanksgiving is a national day of homage to football, there was football, too. The Grimmius contingent delighted in Green Bay's win over Detroit. I'm not in the habit of including pictures of professional football players on this blog, but this one begs a question or three. What does Brett Favre's pinky-finger signal mean? Are his eyebrows really heavy, or is it helmet-shadow? Does artificial turf cut down on the NFL's laundry bill, since there aren't mud or grass stains to remove from white uniforms?

Trapped like a cat

The kittens next door continue to elude the Animal Control folks. That mama cat must have had a gigantic litter-o-kitties because Mary, Darrel, his other brother Darrel, and the local gendarmes have been on active cat-catching duty for over a week. I took this shot of the cat cage on Rosenow's deck from Annie’s bedroom window through the screen. Annie used to spend hours spying on the neighbors when she was a kid. Time to share what you saw and heard, Annie!

I need shopping insurance

In the days since my little mishap at Cub Foods last week I've noticed some minor bruises on my right leg. Nothing horrifying; just enough color to make my leg appear blotched and dirty in a few spots. I've had ongoing leg pain below my right hip and part way around back, just out of easy view, which I thought was a small bruise as well. This morning I looked in the mirror and was startled to see an angry dark purple bruise the circumference of a softball glaring back. Grocery shopping is a dangerous game.

Birthdays in O-Town

Happy Birthday to you and you!
Happy Birthday to you and you!
Happy Birthday, dear Angie
and Grandpa Charlie,
Happy Birthday to you both.

Thanks, Annie and Tanner, for hosting the November birthday event at your home in O-Town. Grandpa Charlie turned 84 on November 15 (although he claims he's 48 and dyslexic) and Aunchie is a sweet 62...er, 26...today. In attendance for the festivities were the birthday folk, host and hostess, Charlie, Dad/Paco, me, Uncle Don, and Aunt Janet. Don and Janet are in MN this week to celebrate Thanksgiving with Cousin Mike, who's nearly an official Minnesotan, and also Cousins Dan and Camille, who are winging their way from Buffalo, NY, tomorrow. We'll see everyone again on Friday, here in St. Peter.

Baby G isn't ready to make his/her appearance yet. We're all hoping for the arrival to take place this week, for the comfort of Annie, the pleasure of Tanner, and so we can all say YES when, in the future, someone says, "Uncle Don was there when Baby G was born." Unfortunately, you'd have a hard time proving that Tanner or Annie were at the celebration today. Or me. We stayed out of camera range.

Angie and Grandpa Charlie with Annie's hands presenting
the Monkey Bread Birthday Cake
The two Charlies, Janet, & Angie
Angie, wearing the official birthday hat, & Charlie
In case you need proof, Uncle Don was there!

Spending the day with a Butterball

Annie and I met up at The Kitchen in Mankato this afternoon to make some dinners to have on reserve during the upcoming weeks while she and Tanner are waiting for and/or playing with Baby G. The directions for making the entrees are easy enough to follow so Tanner can toss them in the oven and claim he made dinner all on his own. Annie says even Dad/Paco could steal the show and pretend to be the chef. Here we are in action, throwing together our grub.

Annie looks like she should have her own cooking show.

Don't the calzones look tasty?

Look who sneaked in to steal a sample...

Here's the Butterball, holding a frozen turkey.
Due date for Baby G's arrival is 13 days away, but who's counting?

Tanner showed up around 5:00 to pick up the Butterball
for their pizza date with Grandma Doreen, Grandpa Dave, and Uncle Will.

Herding cats

Something I’ve not written about previously, but that most of you know about, is the ongoing Retaining Wall Miller Cat Saga. Doug and Marilyn Miller have been keepers of their daughter’s kitty for quite some time, as Krisha can’t have pets where she lives. All spring and summer we watched Doug chase the cat through neighbors’ back yards, trying to lure her out from behind bushes and from under our sunroom. On at least a half-dozen occasions, a smiling Doug would pop up outside the sunroom window, holding a cigarette in one hand, and waving with the other as he calmly waited for kitty to leave her hiding place so he could herd her back home. This was not an easy task, even for a cat wrangler like Doug.

We haven’t seen much of either Doug or the kitty recently, but a few weeks ago there was a lot of mewing going on under the sunroom. Even with the lattice trim skirting the space between the sunroom and the ground, a clever cat -- Krisha’s or another--had squeezed through an opening and was serenading us in the evenings. One afternoon while the cat was out mousing, Dad/Paco, determined not to become the step-father of a litter of illegitimate baby kittens, closed up the gaps that might allow the cat to continue using the space under the sunroom as a motel.

Dad’s ploy worked. No more cat. No more whiny meows from under the sunroom. This could be the end of the story, but it’s not. Yesterday, our neighbor Mary (of Mary and Darrel, and my other brother Darrel) came over to ask me if I’d noticed a police car parked outside of their house several times in the past week. I’d seen it once, but since Darrel was in his yard raking and talking to the officer, I doubted that a domestic disturbance, a murder, or a burglary had taken place. What HAD taken place was a birth. Actually, multiple kitten births, under Mary and Darrel’s deck. The past few days, the mother cat and kittens took turns sunning themselves on the deck, prompting Mary and Darrel to call whatever version of Animal Control we have in St. Peter -- in this case, a cop with a cat cage. The officer has appeared three or four times to exchange empty cat cages for full ones, and now Mary and Darrel are down to one or two kitties to capture so the feline family can be reunited. The cat is likely a stray, since it wasn't wearing a cat collar. I might not have thought of summoning help to capture and care for the mother cat and her babies, but now I’ll know what to do if RW Miller’s cat shows up again.