IN Loving Memory Of My Father

My heart is heavy, my soul is weary, on this, the darkest day I have known...Today I lost my  Father.

Would that you could have known him!  My father was a  good man--kind and gentle, filled with compassion; a man with an easy manner, a quick intelligence, and a quiet confidence.  A man slow to anger, and quick to forgive.  Throughout my storm-filled  childhood, my sainted father was the rock I clung to in the wake of Mama's rages.  He was my comforter, my salvation, my  friend.       

My father in his younger years was a true jack-of-all trades; even now, I marvel at the scope of his abilities.  He could roof a house or repair a radiator with equal ease; he could paint walls or plow a field, cut the lawn or lay a tile floor.  He could fix an engine, bake a cake, build a barn, and throw a horseshoe.  He could repair TVs and radios.  There was nothing my father could not do; he was always my hero.

My father was a good provider and a generous man.  He worked two jobs for most of my childhood, so that we could have all that we needed and most of what we wanted.  Many times I saw him take the last two dollars from his wallet and hand it to a stranger in need.  He was a very giving man; he gave freely and from the heart.

 One of the best gifts I ever received came from my father, and it was the following advice:

"Never let anybody tell you that you can't do something because you're a girl.  You can learn to do anything you want,  if you want it bad enough.  You might not be the best at it--nobody can be the best at everything--but if you try hard enough and long enough, you can learn to do anything well. Everything you learn is yours forever--nobody can take that away from you; so learn all that you can!"        

My father was a wise man, and  I took his words to heart. I learned to draw and to sew, to do algebra and to diagram sentences.  I learned to saw and hammer and paint.  I learned to cook and to can, to farm and to fish, to ride a horse and to paddle a kayak. I learned to make baskets and to build barns, to cut lawns and to fix holes in radiators. Some of my knowledge came from books, some was acquired from strangers; the most important things were taught to me by my wonderful father.  I learned to love unconditionally.  I learned to laugh often, at life and at myself.  I learned to forgive the unforgivable.

 The ever-growing  tapestry of my life is woven with varied and vibrant colors; each thread is something I have read, or learned to do, or experienced  along the way.   My life has been so much richer, so much fuller than it might have been, had I not been given that advice.  And it came from the  greatest gift of all--my  Father.

Easter Greetings From Just2Gypsies And The Freak Show...

Easter Greetings!

WE'RE BAAAACK!



At this very moment, Siobhan and I are elbow-deep in our own Easter traditions--boiling and dying Easter eggs; filling candy baskets ( for each other and for Liam); eating Peeps and Peeps and more Peeps...
 I'm washing mine down with glasses (pleural) of  Dennis Vineyards Spring Muskadine Wine.  (You can order your own at:  www.dennisvineyards.com)


 Siobhan is washing hers down with multiple (also pleural) peep-tinis (recipe to follow).

Ingredients

1.5oz Sobieski Lemon Meringue Vodka

0.5oz white chocolate liqueur

1oz cream

sugar, for rim

Peep, for garnish

Directions

Dip rim of chilled martini glass into sugar to coat. Add Sobieski Lemon Meringue Vodka, white chocolate liquor and cream in a cocktail shaker with ice. Shake and strain into sugar coated martini glass. Garnish with a Peep and serve. Tip: you can cut a slit in the bottom of the Peep to help it stay on the rim of the glass!

The fact that Siobhan's recipe calls for marshmallow rabbits led to a lengthy discussion on Peeps.  Being the senior authority on Peep anatomy, type, genus, sub-genus, etc, I contend that only chick-shaped Peeps are true Peeps.  All the others--rabbits, jack-o-lanterns, and snowmen--are not legitimate Peeps, and are therefore Bastard Peeps. Siobhan obviously doesn't agree with this theory, as she is snorting with laughter, and Peep-tini is coming out her nose.  Regardless of my daughter's Spraying Fountain act, I assure you it's true-- all of the  non-chick peeps are commonly known as Little Bastards. These should always be eaten first, just to put them out of their misery.

As to Peep anatomy--they all have a bad case of Gone-Ass (flat bottoms), and no legs at all.  The least said, the better.




Another common Easter misconception concerns chocolate rabbits.  Most folks assume the ears are the best place to begin eating one.  Well, that is just Wrong.  The kindest way is to whack his entire head off with a meat cleaver, and after waiting 20-30 minutes, eat the whole thing.

As I look around our kitchen, I realize that all Easter candy is either an animal or an animal by-product (lambs, chicks, rabbits, eggs). Which kinda raises a whole new set of questions...What kind of candy do vegetarians put in their children's baskets? Do they have candy bean sprouts and marshmallow soy beans?  Chocolate tofu?   Do they dye their boiled potatoes? Hmmm...After a few more glasses of wine, I might call up a few and ask them.  Meanwhile...

Happy Easter!    


 

Just2Gypsies: Building A Gypsy Wagon Part 12 : Red Wagon Goes "Green"... (or-- Gypsies Go Solar...)

Winter has set in... With cold temperatures and inclement weather more often than not, outdoor work on the wagon has crept to a stand-still.  Even so, Siobhan and I have been busy...

We have been considering power options.  Everything we have used so far in our wagon is natural--all the building materials and furnishings are of wood, brass, copper, iron, cotton, wool, and clay. Even our walls are painted with all-natural milk paint.  All of the wagon's furnishings are antique--with the exception of our "antique icebox", which is really a compact refrigerator in disguise.  (Sorry, but a refrigerator is one modern luxury we couldn't do without!)

Even though we now need it,  it seems a shame to wire our wagon for modern electricity amidst all our lovely antiques... not to mention, the necessity of "hooking up" to an electrical source seems to tarnish the very freedom our wagon stands for.  So as a compromise, we have decided to use a small portable solar system as a power source for our wagon--and while it is certainly modern, at least it is semi-mobile, self-reliant, and green! (Hmmm..."green" gypsies!) 

We plan to use our solar power primarily to run the mini fridge and (6) 12volt reading lights. ( Doesn't  sound like much, does it? )  Now that winter had driven us indoors, it seems like a good  time to plan and buy the components for our system.  With a vague idea of what we want  (and no earthly idea how to build it) we begin...

Three books and much online research later, we were more confused than when we started!  At least, until I came across an archived 8 page post on rv solar systems @  chromolywally.com. If you're feeling a little confused about solar power systems in general, give his article a read. 



According to Wally, it's not that complicated.  In a nutshell, this is what we have do:

Buy some panels, a junction box, batteries and a solar charge controller, wiring, inverter, connectors, two kill switches and some fuses. Mount the panels wherever they’re going to go.  Mount the charge controller in our wagon, and put the batteries wherever they’re going. Wire batteries together. Then connect the batteries to the charge controller, with a kill switch and a fuse on the positive lead. Connect the solar panels together in a junction box with a fuse near the positive terminal of each solar panel.  Wire the solar panel junction box to the charge controller, adding a kill switch on the positive lead.  Sounds pretty straight-forward...

And Wally's diagram seems simple enough--right?  Easy cheesy.


At this point,

I know what you're thinking--

"Those damn gypsies are going to kill themselves, and burn their wagon to the ground." 

NOT!

This is just the basic plan, the mere tip of the iceberg...We have to decide how much power we need--how many solar panels, what size wire and combiner box, what size charge controller and inverter, how many and what size 12v batteries. Also, we have to buy fuses, breakers, and a system monitor. ( This is all covered in the rest of Chromolywally's series.) We are to use the following formulas to determine our power needs:

 amps x volts = watts
watts divided by volts = amps
watts divided by amps = volts
amps hours to be powered each day = ah




To begin with, we need to power a mini refrigerator and (6) 12v lights.  Our power usage calculations are as follows:
.

*Refrigerator-

1.5 amps x 120 v = 180 watts
180 w  / 120v = 1.5amps

runs in 4 min. cycles 4 times per hour for 16 min per hour

16 min x 24 hr a day =  384 min = 6.4 hrs total per day

6.4 hr x 180w = 1152w per day

 1.5 amps x 6.5 hr = 9.75 ah per day 

      

*Reading lights, (2) for each sleeping berth-

(4) 12 volt lights, one automotive incandescent bulb ( #1383) each-
                           1.5 watts x 4 = 6 watts
                          6w / 12volts = .5 amp   
                          .5 amps x 6 hr. = 3.0 amps = 3 ah per day
                               ** Average daily use (?) = 6 hrs **

                                6w x 6hr = 36 w per day

*Reading lights, (2) for Siobhan's reading nook (small bench by  wood stove)-

(2) 12v lights, 13w x 2 = 26w
      26w / 12v = 2.16 amps
      2.16amps x 1.5 hr = 3.25 ah per day
      (average daily use, 1.0 hrs.)
      26w x 1hr = 26w per day

**Inverter will use <2amps

 Charge controller will use <30mV**

***Est. total daily power needed =1152 +36 + 26 =1214 w,
                                                        9.75 ah + 3 ah + 3.25 ah = 16 ah



After comparing our power usage figures with several other bloggers, we decided to build our solar power system with the following components:

single axis solar tracker kit (expandable in case we want to add more solar panels)
(4) 100 watt solar panels, Renogy brand
60' 10 awg wire, 30' red/30' black (to go between panels and combiner box)
(4) 20 amp in-line fuses (1 per wire leading to combiner box)
(1) 4-string combiner box
50' 6 awg cable, 23' red/25' black (to go between combiner box and charge controller)
30 amp 6 awg fuse/in-line fuse
(1) 30 amp MPPT charge controller
20' 02 awg cable, 10' red/10' black (to go from charge controller to battery bank)
1000 amp 02 awg fuse/in-line fuse holder
(4) 6v 230 ah deep charge batteries for a combined voltage of 12v 460ah (enough that batteries         
      won't fall below 50% charged)
(1) 1500/3000 watt inverter
pk of (10) MC4 solar connectors


 Four and 1/2 hours of direct sun will produce 1800w of power from four 100w panels.          

( 400 x 4.5 =1800 )--so we're well under that with our estimated 1214w. 

Combined amperage of solar panels = 5.62 x 4 = 22.48 amps, within the 30 amp limit of the charge controller.

Batteries will store 460 ah of power.  (460a x 12v = 5520 w) .
 Our power requirements are: 1214w / 12v =101a  (w / v = a)

Our solar tracker runs on DC from our system, using <0.5 amps with no-load current, and 3 amps with maximum load current.
 Our pure sine wave inverter has 1500 watts continuous power and 3000 watts surge power; it has a no load current draw of <2 amps and is >90% efficiency rated.

   90% of 1500 = 1350w continuous
   90% of 3000 = 2700w surge/start-up

 

Fingers crossed and breath held, this should power our wagon--at least, on paper!  Stay Tuned--we'll let you know once it's hooked up...

·

        

 

                          



                       

Happy Valentine's Day From Just2Gypsies...

Siobhan and I both are mad for vintage valentine cards.  We eagerly buy any that catch our fancy.  We have a particular fondness for those featuring gypsies.  Or circuses.  Or horses.  Or dogs.  But especially gypsies!  Since tomorrow is Valentine's Day, we want to share a few a few of our favorites... 












 



 
 
 



 







































The last is not a true valentine; it isn't even a card.  It is the simple lyrics of a song, both sweet and sad.  The music that accompanies it is a hauntingly beautiful tune... 


The Gypsy's Song

A gypsy came to the castle gate
He sang so sweet and wild
And with his song he stole away
The Master's only child.

Oh, she cast away her silken gown
She cast away her pride
And ran with him into the night
Down to the sea so wild.

"Come home, come home, my bonny little  child
Come home again to me
Sit once more by your own fireside
With your head upon my knee."

"Oh, I'd rather live an hour here
Than seven long years with thee
And feel the salt spray on my cheek
And know that I am free."

She danced in the wind and she danced in the rain
On the edge of the cliffs and the shore
And she tasted the salt upon her cheek
And never came home no more.

                                            -author unknown
                                                                   



*******************************************************************************


                                                 BEST WISHES

                                                      FOR A

                       HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY

                                                       from

                                           JUST 2 GYPSIES,

                                  GRAINNE AND SIOBHAN

Gran's Cookie Jar

Gran's cookie jar is a treasured memory from my childhood.  Throughout my early years, a succession of wood stoves marched without fanfare through Gran's kitchen--I barely noticed them.  From time to time, a new deal table would magically replace the old--vaguely memorable only as shiny chrome and shades of red, yellow, or blue...But in the heart of her small kitchen, one comforting constant remained for  62 years--Gran's cookie jar.

Gran's cookie jar was a sweet-faced brown cow--a bell around her neck, a kitten on her back.  Filled with Gran's scrumptious cookies...brown sugar peanut butter, crisp cinnamon snickerdoodles, chewy macaroons.  And in the hazy edges of my memory, Gran always hovers..."Would you like a cookie, chavi?"         







Gran's cookies were the ultimate in comfort food; her cookie jar, a childhood friend. But years later, I was to learn the bittersweet truth of that cookie jar--why it wasn't replaced when the cat's ear chipped and  the paint wore thin.  Why my Gran loved it so...



 My grandparents wed in 1931, in the time of the Great Depression.  Gramps was 19 at the time; Gran was 14 and an orphan.  Times were hard, and work was scarce.  Like everyone else at that time, they were poor--but Gran and Gramps were young, and their whole lives lay ahead; they were happy...



 Ten years and 4 children later, the Depression was over.  Now Gramps was farming by day, working in the cotton mill by night.  He managed to buy an old farm house, and in a few more years,  filled it with new furniture.  He bought a 2nd mule and a new plow.  He bought a used car and a new wringer-washer.  His family grew, and still they prospered.

 

  Like most survivors of the Great Depression, Gramps was frugal by nature.  And after years of going without necessities, it was hard for Gramps to spend money on luxuries--but one day he did.  Gramps bought himself a fancy shaving mug--complete with a little cake of soap, imported from England.  He bought Gran her heart's desire--the brown cow cookie jar she had looked at for months, along with 24 lbs of flour.   Life was good at last for Gran and Gramps...



In another 10 years, disaster struck.  Gran became ill, and without surgery, she would die.  The news was devastating, the outcome was grim.  They had little savings and no insurance. But Gramps' love for Gran  was so deep that he couldn't face life without her.  He sold his prized shaving mug.  He sold the mule and plow.  He sold the wringer-washer and the car.  He sold the furniture, piece by piece; when it was all gone, he sold the house...
  


Gramps rented a small cabin along the banks of Reedy Creek, and moved his family into it.  The cabin was little more than a shack, with a sagging roof and a rotting porch.  The curtains fluttered when the windows were closed.  The wind howled up beneath the floor boards and flapped the faded linoleum floor.  But none of that mattered now that Gran could have her surgery...Gran survived, and the family thrived-- with a patched roof overhead, home grown food on their table, and joy in their hearts.  And through it all, Gran's beloved cookie jar sat proudly in her kitchen.  In my heart, it sits there still...       

Grainne and Siobhan's Elf-On-The-Shelf Daily Countdown To Christmas...

  

Christmas Day at last !
Good tidings of great cheer...
 That rotten Elf can vanish
for another whole year...
Hallelujah!

























MERRY CHRISTMAS!






2  1 Day Before Christmas...

One day before Christmas,
and what do you think?
We found Elf drunk
by the kitchen sink...





3   2 Days Before Christmas...


Two days before Christmas,
pretty as you please...
Elf dropped his knickers
below his knobby knees!































  4     3 Days Before Christmas...

Three days until Christmas,
great--another chore!
Cleaning Elf's snow angels
off the kitchen floor...






5   4 Days Before Christmas...








Four days before Christmas,
bring me a beer--
I just found Elf swinging
 from a chandelier...





6   5 Days Before Christmas...

 Five days before Christmas,
I feel a little Stress...
Why is Elf wearing
 Barbie's favorite dress?































7  6 Days Before Christmas...

Six days before Christmas,
just for fun,
Elf shot out our Christmas lights
with the Nut Cracker's gun...






























 8  7 Days Before Christmas...

Seven days before Christmas,
in horror and dread,
we found Elf smoking 
 in in his tissue box bed...






9   8 Days Before Christmas...

Eight days before Christmas--
 not sooner or later--
 Elf rolled our house
with toilet paper...


























10  9 Days Before Christmas...

Nine days before Christmas,
our patience wears thin--
Elf gave us moustaches
with a permanent pen...

























11  10   Days Before Christmas...

Ten days before Christmas,
 you'll never guess!
We caught Elf looking
up a fox's dress...
(the little pervert!)

























12  11 Days Before Christmas...

Eleven days before Christmas,
by one hand and one knee
that crazy Elf dangled
 from our Christmas tree...
(and broke three balls!




 


















 
13  12 Days Before Christmas...

 Twelve days before Christmas,
I looked near and far--
and finally found Elf 
in the Biscuit Jar...

























14  13  Days Before Christmas...

Thirteen days before Christmas,
 my heart in my throat,
I found Elf bathing
in our best gravy boat...



















 "Tis a fortnight before Christmas...
 Siobhan and myself
and all our critters are sleeping--
but not our Shelf Elf..."




And then the trouble begins...

Happy Thanksgiving From The Ghost Of Freak Shows Past...

I want to wish everyone a happy Thanksgiving today, even though it's a little early...This time tomorrow, Siobhan, Liam, and I will be having our own private Thanksgiving celebration, held in a secret spot,well- hidden, deep in a secluded location.  Probably under assumed names.  Possibly wearing false mustaches.

Why the secrecy, you ask?  Have you forgotten the last time we hosted a family Thanksgiving dinner--- or in our case, The Family Freak Show Feast?!  Perhaps I need to jog your memory a little...
                                          

For those of you not familiar with this particular holiday, Thanksgiving is celebrated in the U.S. on the 4th Thursday of November. (Apparently our forefathers couldn't agree on an actual calendar date--like the 17th, or the 24th.)  Early Pilgrim settlers held the first Thanksgiving feast to give thanks for having survived one year in a new land.  They were mostly thankful for not perishing from starvation or disease, or being murdered in their sleep by the natives...(Later on, to show their gratitude, the same settlers massacred the natives and took their land.  Go figure.)

Over the years, Thanksgiving has evolved into a day of football games and televised parades, as well as the traditional stuff-yourself-feast with family and friends.  Or in our case, The Freak Show...
                             

Traditionally Siobhan and I host Thanksgiving dinner here at Just 2 Gypsies Farm.  We do all of the cooking, but occasionally some of the Freak Show will volunteer to bring a casserole of some sort, or a dessert.  Each year Siobhan and I take great pains to have the house and barn sparkling clean (Mama is a neat freak), and all the leaves raked from the back garden ( Saphrona chain-smokes).  We even bathe our dogs!

Siobhan and I carefully plan our menu...We roast our turkey under a clean lard bucket in our garden; we bake herb and cornbread dressing in a cast iron skillet over the fire pit.  We prepare the other dishes indoors--green bean casserole, sweet potato casserole, mashed potatoes, creamed corn; deviled eggs, cranberry salad, caramelized root vegetables, yeast rolls.  Pumpkin pie, sweet potato pie, pecan pie; and for something a little different this year, two dozen specially made pumpkin and cream cheese cupcakes...

It is 11:55; Siobhan and I are right on schedule.  The tables are set with sparkling china and silverware; Siobhan's fresh flowers and folded napkins add just the right touch.  The side table and counter tops all groan with their load of food.  The blend of aromas wafting from the kitchen is heavenly...

Now it's 12:00--High Noon---the time Mama decreed we should eat; everything is ready, and The Freak Show has not arrived yet.  And so we wait...

 At 12:07,  Mama bustles in with my sweet father in tow.  She is carrying an enormous box of cupcakes, beautifully decorated by a local bakery, and completely unexpected by the menu planners (Siobhan and me).  As usual, Mama is complaining about the weather, the traffic, and how it's all my father's fault that she's late ( 7 minutes-- big deal.)  Suddenly Mama spots Siobhan's cupcakes.  "WHERE DID YOU GET THOSE CUPCAKES?  NOBODY TOLD ME YOU WERE HAVING CUPCAKES!!" And Mama flounces angrily into the living room.  Dad meekly follows. Siobhan makes room for Mama's cupcakes on the side table, and we all sit down.  Again we wait...

At 12:12, Uncle Patrick and Aunt Leona come in; Aunt Leona is carrying a huge platter of cupcakes, supplied by her neighborhood bakery (again, totally unexpected by the menu planners!). Aunt Leona and Mama glare at the cupcakes and glare at each other; Mama immediately goes outside.  Aunt Leona pouts; she and Uncle Patrick sit in silence. Siobhan looks around helplessly for a place to put the newest cupcakes; finally she gives up and sits them on the stove top. We continue to wait...

At 12:18, my extremely pregnant cousin Lavinia breezes in, her husband  Julio and their two little boys in tow.  She is breathless from hurrying, and apologetic for being late.  She hands me a large white box with --you guessed it!--two dozen cupcakes inside.  Speechless, I hand them to Siobhan...She doesn't even look at the kitchen. With a glazed look in her eye, Siobhan takes them directly to the laundry room and plops them down on top of the dryer.

At 12:20, my brother Eamon stomps in, with Mama hot on his heels.  He hands me a bag of buns and 2 lbs. of ground beef.  Puzzled, I ask "What is this for?"  Freak Boy tells me that he's not in the mood for turkey; he brought uncooked ground beef  so I could grill hamburgers for him.  (Yep--you read that right.  He brought it late, and he brought it for ME to grill!)  Eamon heads for the TV,  and Mama tells me "Don' t dare upset him!  Go on and get out the grill--we can't eat until your sister gets here anyway!!"  Then Mama marches off to sit with her pet Eamon , and they all continue waiting...

Meanwhile, Siobhan rolls her eyes and heads outside with a bag of charcoal.  I meet her in the back garden, where we hastily build a fire that would make any arsonist proud.  Ten minutes later, with the charcoal still blazing, we throw Eamon's slapped-together, misshapen hamburger patties on the grill.   While the burgers are burning, Siobhan and I sit down and WE wait ...

It is now 12:45; Eamon's burgers are thoroughly blackened, and Siobhan and I are back in the kitchen.  Now in dead silence we ALL wait...

 It is 1:10, and miraculously Saphrona finally rolls in-- 1 hour and 10 minutes late, and making no apologies to anyone. She is dressed up like a dog's dinner in her turquoise leopard print sheer top, black lace camisole, and rhinestone-encrusted jeans with fringe from hip to ankle, and random placed holes.  On her feet are glittery purple high-top tennis shoes with wedge heels; her purse is large enough to hide a pizza pan in, and is covered with guinea feathers. (I kid you not.  Our dogs go wild and try to attack it...) A dozen gold bracelets hang on each arm, and more chains than I can count are around her neck. (Remember Mr. T?)  Her black feather earrings don't look too bad--mostly because they blend in with her leopard-spotted black and blond hair...

When I can finally tear my eyes away from Saphrona's normal-for-her attire, I see that she is carrying a large paper bag, and is heading straight for me.  With ominous forebodings I ask "what is this?"  Saphrona replies "It's corn--I think it would be nice if you cook some for Thanksgiving dinner." (Again late, and again with the "YOU cook!")   Saphrona is 56 years old...This is the first time she has ever brought food of any kind to a family gathering.  Mama beams  at her firstborn daughter, then harshly tells me to hurry up and cook the corn so Saphrona won't feel bad. Siobhan and I look in the bag, and the corn hasn't even been shucked...

By this time, dinner has been cooling for 1 hour and 18 minutes.  Siobhan and I are starving, we have a roomful of hungry people not talking to each other, and my own patience is wearing thin. (That's putting it mildly--I feel like steam is coming from my ears!)  I look at Siobhan, and see that she feels the same.  So we defy Mama.  We dig our heels in and absolutely refuse to shuck that damned corn. So much for manners.  Forget "southern hospitality".  We tell the Freak Show that dinner is served NOW--if you  want any food, get to the table. 

  In single file, we fill our plates with now-cold food, and wait in line at the microwave.  Finally we all sit down at the table and give thanks for our very late Thanksgiving dinner...Between bites, Mama and Aunt Leona glare at one another and alternately squawk at their husbands. Dad and Uncle Patrick keep their heads down and humbly take the abuse.  Lavinia referees between her boys, and Julio wishes he was still in Puerto Rico.  Eamon is dark as a thundercloud because his new girlfriend isn't here. Too bad she couldn't come; she would have fit right in with The Freak Show, being a midget and all.  (Just kidding, folks--she's at least 4' 5".) My loony sister Saphrona is lit up like a Christmas tree, talking gibberish about God-knows-what as she pops a handful of pain pills into her mouth...(It may be mumbo-jumbo, but it sounds suspiciously like  "I gotta find a way to scam me up some  money!")  We all pretend we didn't hear...

I look around the table at our strange assortment of relatives and I smile. With our Freak Show, I'm thankful that Thanksgiving only comes once a year.  Siobhan looks around the table and she smiles.  With our Freak Show gene pool, she's thankful she can even tie her shoes...

Happy Thanksgiving to you all.  Cupcake, anyone?