It's been over a month since the last blog, and all I can say is some very strange things have been happening here. As a scientist I'm suspicious of the occult, but some of what you're about to see defies easy explanation. Let's remember where we left off.
At the end of Wilmington Weekend Update #32 Granne had just returned to Memphis and Margaret was planting pansies. From there to December 20th pretty much nothing of note happened. That right there is pretty strange, but it gets weirder.
Every Christmas since we moved to Wilmington Margaret's dad has brought his guitar and led us in caroling around the neighborhood December 23rd. The tradition has spread by word of mouth, and as we've been too lazy to bring our neighbors Christmas treats since around 2005 we've had to do at least something for the various families who trek over here to sing to the neighbors in temperatures that often plummet into the low fifties. This year's cookie baking took an entire weekend, and we had to put the kids to work. As you see below, Julian was sweating so hard he had to remove his shirt. Please don't tell DSS. After all, it's not child labor if they don't get paid.
And then we turned Jewish. Okay, technically I've always been Jewish on account of my mom being born to a Jewish mother. But my mom has now joined a Charismatic Evangelical Unitarian Church, and my Jewish education was limited largely to the consumption of matzoh balls. Fortunately Ilana and Todd Reynolds came to the rescue when we were too late getting home to join the Vogels for the traditional Hanukkah candle lighting. With some help from the Internet we actually perpetuated the celebration without help for all four nights of the Miracle. Thanks to Todd and Ilana for their spare Menorah.
Ilana instructs the Hill children in their heritage. For those of you who are both Jewish and sticklers for detail, Ilana is left-handed and often inadvertently lights her Menorah left-to-right.
December 23rd finally arrived, and Granddad and Diane pulled into the driveway right on time. In past years singing carols has distracted our guests from the more important task of drinking egg nog, so this year we started with the drinking. I think we sounded better than ever. Thanks to all the neighbors who came to the door with treats, some left over from Halloween. Special thanks to Steve Richards, who handed out beers. We really brought caroling back to its 18th-century English roots: a bunch of drunken louts staggering around to fine homes singing until someone brought them more alcohol. Cheerio!
Carolers mill in the kitchen prior to assaulting the remainder of Turtle Hall.
Christmas Eve was peaceful, as kids milled around the neighborhood from one home to the next. Thanks to the economy neither Margaret nor myself had to run around doing any last-minute shopping. Below: Abby, Lauren Sause, and Emily Sause tackle curve on Mario Kart.
Another tradition we treasure is attending the 4:00 PM Christmas Eve service at St. James. This tradition is linked to the tradition of running around screaming at our children for an hour and getting everyone in the minivan at 3:55, hopefully with two shoes apiece. We remained in our church clothes just long enough to snap this photo before giving in to Christmas Eve bedlam:
This year Granddad started something new, which is putting out reindeer food. The kids were terribly excited to scatter the magical meal around the yard, the better to attract Santa. I did not point out that one of our neighbors was in a nearby tree simultaneously erecting a camouflage reindeer stand.
Instead of ordering strombolis Diane shows the kids how to make them. Our friends at Terrazzo should fear for our weekly order, except that this makes a horrid mess.
Next we dragged the kids kicking and screaming away from the Wii in order to honor yet another tradition, the annual reading of Dylan Thomas's A Child's Christmas In Wales. Only Margaret and Julian fell asleep, and then only temporarily.
Julian makes sure the cookies are ready for Santa.
We all went immediately to sleep so as not to interfere with Santa's arrival. As I was drifting off, I thought I could hear one of the elves cursing at the Windows Vista operating system around 2:00 AM, but it was probably just my imagination. With DVD's and breakfast we managed to coop the kids upstairs until 8:00 AM on Christmas morning, when we agreed they could awaken Granddad and Diane and see what Santa had wrought.
Abby, Sellers, and Julian lead Granddad into the family room Christmas morning.
Sellers and I try to figure out where this new laptop came from and what it's for.
Julian takes his sister for a joy ride. His idea of joy is to jolt forward, stop suddenly, and do it again.
For some reason Santa saw fit to equip Abby with an enormous amount of makeup. He made it clear in the accompanying letter it was for play purposes only.
Mommy is almost as happy as Abby and Sellers Santa saw fit to get them a computer of their own, thus freeing up her work computer and mine.
Diane expresses awe and delight at Francis's thoughtfulness.
It turns out leftover stromboli filling is perfect for omelets.
I loved all my stocking stuffers, but the egg-top cutter is possibly the most perfect kitchen tool since the knife.
Santa gave Sellers Flight Simulator X along with a real throttle and yoke. I bet most pilots don't have to fly with a four-year-old on their backs.
Thanks to Francis and Diane for replacing last year's stripy pajamas, now riddled with holes.
Alas, this year's visit was cut short by what may be the last Twelfth Night celebration at The Oaks in Virginia (yes, we know it's not technically on Twelfth Night).
Not wanting to waste a perfectly good holiday weekend, we did something truly bizarre. We cleaned out the garage. Fortunately it turned into a neighborhood party, and Josh Vogel ran off with all the stuff we didn't want, saving us a call to Goodwill Industries.
Dude, do these fluorescent bulbs work!?
Megan Vogel, Emily Sause, Mary Michael Weaver, Abby, Lauren Sause, and Julian playing a game none of them could explain.
Josh and I argue over which of us gets to be Fred Astaire.
I get a little more Christmas as Margaret's last gift for me arrives a bit late. I have to explain here we're huge Top Chef fans. But I must admit, those chef's coats are great for preserving your work clothes while making the kids' lunches for the day. I'm thinking of getting a few more.
In another strange turn of events, we actually ended up celebrating New Year's Eve, a holiday we usually disdain. But when Nancy Cunningham and Bill Hession suggest a multi-family sleepover at their waterfront home with Sandra Hall cooking up fillet mignon, who's going to say no? In an even stranger turn of events, we stayed up long enough to toast the New Year.
Margaret sports a semi-ironic New Year's Eve outfit and hairstyle. She's leaning against the wall here, and she hasn't even started drinking yet!
Don't worry, the kids are downstairs. What sort of trouble could they get into?
Bill crowns Sandra Hall Queen of the Kitchen.
Sandra and Nancy make sure all the kids get some cake.
We all change into jammies as the New Year approaches.
For New Year's Day we invited John Parker and Heather Henderson over with their three children. The four grown-ups see each other all over the hospital, and the kids spend every day together at day care and after-school. But they've never played the Wii together. There's no better way to spend the first day of the new year than enthralled by a video game.
Margaret feels the light, fluffy meringue icing for her New Year's cake didn't turn out like in the picture. Maybe we didn't adjust for cooking at 2 feet above sea level.
The following weekend marked the beginning of something never before seen in the history of the Hill family: basketball competency. Sellers joined his team for a second season, actually shooting some baskets. If he didn't look so much like me... His brother begged to join the team as well, and we acquiesced. Julian was enthusiastic but he had some trouble with the concept of only having one ball between all those players. After practice we ran into Abby's old friend Natalia, who came by for a makeover.
Margaret gets in touch with her inner makeup artist.
But she also has an inner handyman. Here she reinforces the chicken coop after two feral dogs got a hankering for white meat. I just hope her inner handyman never meets her inner makeup artist.
A week passes. Nothing of note happens. Abby, deprived of anything to celebrate, realizes it's her plush bush baby's birthday. This time the icing comes out better. The bush baby appreciates all the hoopla:
I spent Saturday, January 17th driving back and forth to Charlotte for the North Carolina Pediatric Society's Winter Open Forum. If you're a pediatrician, it was pretty exciting. Otherwise, it was a bunch of pediatricians talking in an Embassy Suites meeting room. If you're into this kind of thing you can check out the details here.
Dr. Marian Earls, President of the NCPS, opens the session.
The weirdest thing of all happened Tuesday, January 20th. It snowed in Wilmington. Almost enough to measure. After years of waiting, our children finally got to experience the wonders of winter precipitation.
Snow on Spanish moss.
Snowmobiling, Hampstead, NC style.
A blizzard blankets our house in snow.
Abby waits for a snowflake to taste. Be patient, my child, one will come any time now.
Frozen chicken?
Jack has an inspired idea. And our kids agree.
No, kids, that's not what people mean by snowboarding.
Josh Vogel, two-year chairman of Dartmouth's Winter Carnival, gathers the neighborhood kids for some snowman-making lessons.
Sellers makes a real mulch angel.
Julian climbs an icy slide. He doesn't really understand ice.
This is just like when Josh was on the team that made the Guinness Book Of World Records with a 53-foot snowman at Dartmouth.
Abby prepares to taste snow. And mulch.
Jeff Weaver shows off what we in Wilmington call "snow shoes." We don't really wear socks here.
It is good.
I only hope they sleep okay.
School resumed at 10:00 AM Wednesday, and while slush is still piled up in giant mounds beside the streets, life is back to normal in Wilmington.
Friday night is "Flop Night" in the Hill house. We eat strombolis then watch TV until everyone is asleep on the couch.
We have had rotating illness among the kids, so only Sellers made it to basketball practice. Here again he disproves the timeworn adage, "Neither David Hill nor anyone even distantly related to him can play basketball."
Do I even have to tell you which team was in the blue?
Last night Margaret and I got all gussied up to attend an event for the New Hanover Regional Medical Center Foundation on behalf of Cape Fear Pediatrics. There was a fantastic disco cover band, plenty of sushi and champagne, and a silent auction where I failed to bid on the bear hunting trip for four in Pender county. Yep, it's still Wilmington.
"Yes, dear, you look exactly like James Bond. Yes, the Sean Connery Bond. Now, will you stop asking me?"
It's not clear what other odd things will happen around here, but you never know. Happy 2009.
2 comments:
Oh my gosh - I think the kids have each grown an inch since I saw them last month!
Your updates are so worth the wait. We need to get our butts down there again soon ... not 3 years from now.
btw, chapel hill is relaxing their chicken laws. we'll be consulting you on chicken selection and coop management.
ps: david is interim chair of the UNC School of Dentistry Periodontology Dept. Not sure if it's kiss of death or next step, but time will tell. Regardless, we're proud.
Love the new stripey pjs!
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