Pin It Weekly #95

Just some random fiber goodness.  Nothing else.  Enjoy.

Natchitoches at 300 Years

In Louisiana there are traditions that we treasure. There may be times when we can't follow the tradition for a while, but we follow in spirit and love and wishes to be part of the fun.

One of our traditions is attending the Natchitoches Festival of Lights.  The lights are the main attraction, but there's so much more to the fun.  There's a month-long festival that seems to wake up at Thanksgiving and lasting until January.  

By festival I mean all the food and all the fun: fireworks, parades, laser lights, a huge craft fair and probably some things that I don't even know about.  Well, I do know about one: a flotilla on Cane River Lake during the fireworks shows. (Yes, plural, as in every weekend in December.)  Last Saturday night I was on one of the boats with this sweet man.  

A couple of random kiddos

I don't have a photo of the boat but with all of our son's family, a couple of stray friends, and Richard and me, it's safe to say that there were a few of us.  First, we took a ride down the river to enjoy the lights along the lake. Some of the houses are beautifully decorated both front and back, so whether one drives past on the road or on the lake, there are lights to view.

Then we rode slowly along Front Street, the area of town designated for the festival.  Both sides of the lake are decorated but the Front Street side holds the festival and the opposite side has the majority of lights and the fireworks area.  In the photo above you can see the squarish lights over the Church Street bridge which is closed to traffic during the fireworks.  This place is run like a tightly managed ship but, celebrating its 300th anniversary, the city knows how to throw a party.

And a couple of random grands

 Now there is one problem being on the water....it's cold!  I brought extra blankets, Stacey brought every quilt I've ever made for the kids, and everyone had coats, gloves and hats.  The kids piled one on another like chickens in a coop, and still we were cold. We weren't miserable and certainly we weren't in any danger of freezing, but the hot cocoa was a welcome cup of cheer.  

We docked for a short while after the fireworks to get a snack and say hello to family on shore, then off we breezed to a warm car for the ride home.  We're grateful for an annual trip to Natchitoches during the Christmas season: this one marked our second one and served as a wonderful family memory complete with all the fun that three generations can handle.

Wishing you and yours a blessed, happy Christmas.

Sock Monkey Photo Shoot

Yesterday I told you about the battle of the sock monkey and how I lost both the battle and the war.

Well, apparently I also lost some photo space on my phone.  When the grands come they often use a phone to call their parents or a friend.  I try to avoid that because if someone asks to borrow a phone, it generally means that the someone has lost phone privileges.  Getting between a punished grandchild and an angry mother is not the smartest thing anyone can do, and I try to be smart.

Richard keeps his phone attached to his hip, literally, and it's not a smart phone, so it's below their standards to begin with.  My phone, an Android (?) suits their needs and has a little stylus that they love. Guess whose phone is always in the fray.  

So the sock monkey saga continued, unbeknownst to me. Apparently Leroy begged for a photo shoot.  He likes taking pictures.  Dusti had both time and my phone in her hand, so Leroy posed. Dusti is quite adept at taking pictures so she played photographer and Leroy played himself.  These pictures are the result.

 He even got to relax and listen to music with Lane.

Pleading Granddaughters and Sock Monkeys

Sometimes it just doesn't matter how strong a person is. Grandchildren know.  They just know.  They have multitudinous ways of knowing: DNA, parents, blood, love, heredity, consent, approbation, emotion and so on.  

You begin with an adamant, "no."  

You continue with this no for quite some time, eventually adding thought-filled, carefully crafted reasonable answers to "Why?" the "no."  

And you stick to the "no," albeit a weaker version.

You then move to the maybes and I-don't-knows and we'll-sees.

And at some point, the torturous pleading and begging and boohooing becomes unbearable.  You've lied, you've cried, you've blacked out, only to awaken soaked and bloody.


You relinquish in despair, ashamed of your weakness and exposure. The pleading and crying end, and you wonder why.  You'd known all along.  You've been through the pain and torture on numerous times before.  

Challenged by a grandchild, you've never beaten the gauntlet.  No one has.

In this particular case, the granddaughter and a new sock monkey, named Leroy, are happy friends.  Yes, she is 16, and apparently, she still plays with stuffed toys.

And a grandmother has lost (and won) yet another battle.  Merry Christmas to grandmothers and grandchildren everywhere.