So, the last day of NaBloPoMo. I feel that I have cheated somewhat by turning my blog into a mobile scrapbook, but dammit, I POSTED EVERY DAY, SO I WIN.

Today was the last real day of hauling the Prawn out to be paraded like a show pony (we met up with the fellow who married us) so we’ll have a couple of days to chill out before we have to get back on a plane. While she had a nothing short of miraculous trip coming this way, for our own protection, we must assume that the trip back will be an excercise in trying to gag a boisterous 8.5 month old so our fellow passengers can get some shut eye.

I am going to endevour to become the usually witty poster that everyone has come to expect upon our return, but I have to admit that I am pleased to have made it through this annual challenge without forsaking a single day of posting despite our holiday and chasing after the NASCAR Prawn.

I leave you with a few more snaps of our stay.

The Rock Star has a facination with American street signs.

If my daughter ever chooses a religious path, I can pretty much say with a degree of certainty that she will not be following the way of the Buddha.

Last year, NaBloPoMo challenged me to write far more than it has this year. Perhaps I should have remembered that I was spending half of the month in the bosom of my family and would probably rather spend my time doing fun stuff rather than being tethered to the computer. That, and looking after an increasingly mobile Prawn have stunted my posting. But I can’t apologise for having a good time, so here are some more photos.

The Prawn hangs in the local Taco Bell.

A Prius owner proves that science and religion can co-exist. On the bumper of a car, at any rate.

I used to believe that putting on a costume such as this would result in almost fatal mortification. However, what one forgets, is that one is totally anonymous when one dons a giant cow head and can therefore engage in all sorts of bovine tomfoolery that one would normally not if one was not wearing such a silly disguise.

The Rock Star and I have been married for 8 years. The wedding was on this side of the pond at this time of year in 1999. It was a beautiful Indian summer day, although the following day was icy cold. (A number of us traipsed down to Washington DC for some chilly sightseeing, some of us suffering worse hangovers than others. I should mention that The Rock Star and I were not among those in dire need of asprin.)

We got to celebrate this evening with a trip to one of our favorite haunts in the nearby town of New Market; a lovely little place called Mealey’s. After ordering an appetiser that could have choked the Roman Third Legion, (pita chips with parmasan and crab meat) we had to take the rest of the gorgeous meal at a more leisurely pace. We’re now lying sprawled on the couches, feeling like even slight vibrations might trigger a gastic event of fatal proportions.

Nothing says Happy Anniversary like a truckload of Gaviscon.

After clocking over 300 miles in 2 days, we’re happy to be luxuriating back in my parent’s lovely home.

Visting my family’s ancestral stomping grounds is always a pleasant affair. Since the last of the major family homes that we used to stay in was sold, we stay in a lovely bed and breakfast owned by the mayor of the town that my parents grew up in. It’s a stunning Victorian townhouse originally owned by the Boyer family, who the town is named for. My parents arranged for us to stay in one of the turret rooms; a high celing-ed affair with dramatic drapery. The room in question also contained a number of busts including two rather creepifying ones that lived on top of the wardrobe. We wondered what to do with them and tried to convince ourselves that our offspring might be afeared, but in reality, the Prawn started waving and was all “Hey, creepy heads, how’s it hanging?” the minute we got in. So we had to admit that it was for OUR benefit that the busts got to spend the night in the closet for fear of waking up in the middle of the night to find them both talking about the state of the economy or something.

Just a few more views of Main Street USA.

Not an interesting post in the least, but in keeping with the spirit of the mighty NaBlah, I put my electronic mark on this glowing page in order to not have failed in my challenge. We’re off to Pennsylvania in order to introduce the Prawn to yet MORE relatives that will fuss over her. She is, at present, passed out on the living room floor, utterly exhausted by a week of socializing. All the easier to pour her into her car seat.

We were lucky enough to be able to catch up with our friends Big Fish, Little Fish and The Tadpole today as they’ve come down from the Big Apple to visit us country mice. We spent rather a lot of the day eating breakfast at Perkins, which we always relish when we come back home to visit, but we also indulged in a bit of retail therapy.

My husband can be slightly juvenille sometimes.

Another Thanksgiving has come and gone leaving behind a gruesome trail of expanded waistlines and leftovers in it’s wake.

We watched some of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade with the Prawn. I think I remember the parade being less about trying to sell records for recording artists or tickets to bad Broadway shows in my youth, but I can’t be sure. The Prawn fell asleep for most of it, so at least the long sales pitch didn’t affect her much. My favorite moment was a mimed performance by what I can only guess is a rather popular band during which one of the guitarists was “playing” wearing mittens.

In the Thanksgivings of my childhood, we used to travel to Pennsylvania to the home of my mother’s sister for the annual turkey feast, but in recent years, most of my cousins have moved down to my parent’s neck of the woods and Thanksgiving dinner has moved with them. My parent’s two large living rooms are ideal for the horde of rugrats that now make up the family, the Prawn being the youngest of said rugrats. Her four Eastern second cousins (she has 9 who live in Western States) were completely adoring, even the 7 year old boy who we’re all sure is going to be a linebacker/stuntman due to his ability to charge headlong into solid objects or fall from great heights and emerge thoroughly unphased. (Luckily for us, the beautiful weather yesterday allowed all of the children to get rid of some excess energy outdoors before the meal.)

Today, the Rock Star and I have been chilling in the newly quiet house and awaiting the arrival of our friends BigFish, LittleFish and the Tadpole who are driving down from New York for a weekend visit. We chanced a trip to the grocery store on this, the busiest shopping day of the year and found that we were pretty much the only people in the place. I find it difficult to go into American grocery stores while I’m visiting without coming home with bags looking like I’m heading to a tailgating party. If I lived here, chances are I would eat a third of the crap that I do when I visit, but I tend to try to make up for all that I miss (Chocolate covered pretzels! Cherrios! Goldfish! Cheese popcorn! Ack!) and then go home feeling vaguely ill.

I hope all of you American types had a lovely Turkey Day and Happy Weekend to all those back at home in the UK.

The Rock Star and I are cat people. Sadly, in our 12 years together, we have never been in a position to own cats. So when we visit my parents, we get to enjoy their triumverate of felines; Vandella, Parsnip and Crackers.

Crackers is the one with the most personality. His enormous yellow eyes set against his black fur are terribly expressive. He also has a toe fetish, as illustrated below.

The cats have been banished to the basement today for their own safety as there are 5 children celebrating Thanksgiving with us today, 4 of whom are mobile, all of whom are overstimulated, so they’re probably better off sleeping on the Bowflex than up here. Thanksgiving photos to follow on the morrow.

Although it is not yet Stuff I’m Seeing Friday, I felt I had to share some of the lovely sights we’ve encountered already.

The autumn here has been extended by unseasonal weather, so where the trees would normally be bare, they are still wearing their dazzling foliage. The Japanese Maple in my parent’s front yard is a particular beauty.

As is the Prawn, enjoying roughly an acre of roaming space in Grams and Gramps living room.