I am going to go ahead and admit that Thanksgiving wasn't easy on us. The holiday came on the tail end of an ice storm that had us holed up in the cabin for three solid days and we were all on the verge of a dangerous case of cabin fever. We did the best we could to make it happy but deep down (and at times, not so deep down) we longed to be with our family back in Alabama.

We missed a lot. We missed going to Mom and Craig's. Mom and Craig are usually the most flexible group (among my side of the family), so our get together day is never set in stone. When we do get together to celebrate Thanksgiving, sometimes Mom prepares a full Thanksgiving spread, and at other times we'll have fried chicken and mashed potatoes from Popeye's. Once Craig cooked a seriously delicious lobster bisque. Even when our meal isn't traditional, the time spent at Mama's is nice and comfortable. We scoot around the hardwood floors in our sock feet and Charley is free to safely roam the house making herself busy with very little direction. It's usually cold enough to have a small fire burning in the fireplace. I sit in front of the fireplace long enough to cook the meat on my back while others sink into plush chairs.

We missed going to Aunt JoAnn's and Uncle Jerry's house where every surface is covered in antiques from just about every century (seriously) and it is cozy and familiar. The dressing is award winning and the rolls are hot and glazed with a thin layer of butter. And while the cranberry sauce is tin can shaped, the dressing's life began in an iron skillet. In recent years Chuck has taken it upon himself to bring a full size turkey that is smoked to perfection. He even likes to garnish the turkey plate with pine needles. Bringing an actual turkey is a huge step up for our little unit, since before that time we were only entrusted to bring paper plates or rolls (which for the record is perfectly ok with me). After filling our bellies we all sit around the living room. Most watch whatever football game might be on television and everyone talks. Some nod off in antique wing back chairs while the kids run around, dodging Tiffany lamps and Gone With the Wind memorabilia. My Dad wanders outside and I am usually not far behind. Chuck hams it up with our uncles and cousins...who am I kidding...the aunts too. He hams it up ESPECIALLY with the aunts. We all miss seeing Grandmother with a tray in her lap filled with a sample of each dessert and a hot coffee. We miss her wisdom and humor, but appreciate the tight knit love she created and left behind.

After leaving Aunt JoAnn's, we head over to Big Mama's house where if we are hungry we are encouraged to eat again. The Georgia-in-laws are in town by then so the kitchen is full. Inevitably, we all end up in there bumping off one another. Sometimes we might eat a small bowl of warm, homemade, vegetable soup and other times we might dig into a Styrofoam container full of BBQ from Uncle Sam's. We stay well beyond Charley's bedtime but leave early enough to allow for the duck hunter to get enough sleep before his big day.

Friday morning it begins. He's got two days to get on the creek and harvest ducks. After that there is a short break, then the season continues....and goes on...and on...and on. He's out there before the sun rises, paddling out to his secret duck hunting spot on Big Wills Creek. When he gets back around midday, we meet at Big Mama's. She cooks a big spread of Thanksgiving delights and we fill our bellies again. We basically camp out there for the entire day. Chuck, his brother, and nephew throw the football back and forth and Phyllis and I sit around with Big Mama watching the little ones.

And if that wasn't enough, on Saturday, we all load up and drive about an hour southwest to Springville, Alabama for a Thanksgiving/Alabama Football party. We dress in our team colors (all crimson and houndstooth with the exception of a few misguided Georgia fans) and every person there adheres Alabama tattoos to their face. Aunt Janice has all sorts of yummy appetizers lined up for the taking and while the kids (and Guy) waller in the floor, the others watch the game. When the football game isn't on, Uncle Charlie might crank up his riding lawnmower and give the kids 'wagon rides' in the backyard. Footballs are thrown. Back porch swings and rockers are in motion.

So this year was different; to say the least. Chuck, Charley, and I got up and meandered around the cabin. Our good friend Jeff came by and brought us a heavenly good pie that Courtney was nice enough to prepare for us. He left to join his family for Thanksgiving festivities but not 5 minutes later returned with an invitation to join he and his in-laws for Thanksgiving dinner. We turned him down but it wasn't easy....(MAN that Jeff has a hard time taking no for an answer!). It was REALLY sweet of him to feel so sorry for us, but we actually had plans to prepare a Thanksgiving meal ourselves.

After Jeff left, we commenced to digging into the pie like it was manna and opening cans of green beans. The turkey was already in the oven. We made sure that Charley was involved in every part of the process and in the end we had a feast consisting of turkey, green bean casserole, dressing, rolls, and pumpkin pie. Not everything was real good, but we enjoyed making it. It was a good "team family" building experience.

When the cooking and eating were over, the day dragged on. We thought of those back at home and wished we could be there. But we are nevertheless thankful to be in Alaska and to have one another. God has been good to us and we are eternally grateful.

I love sending out Christmas cards. As a norm, we send non-traditional cards featuring Charley merrily screaming her head off at the end of an exhausting photo shoot or Christmas tree hunt. For me, shooting the photo for the card is the fun part. Designing them is a different story.

For years, it seemed all that was available were those long, narrow, rectangular cards that were once so popular at Wal-Mart. Of course, I wasn't willing to do what everybody else was doing (I just have to make life difficult like that for some reason), so I decided to design them on my computer using my own software, then have them printed at the local copy shop. I thought that doing it that way would save me a few dollars and allow me a bit more creative freedom. I was wrong about the dollars part. Also, I quickly discovered that the local copy shops were not equipped to print out great quality photo cards.

To avoid the hassle and the expense, this year we are going with Shutterfly. They have an amazing selection and their prices are great. AND, what makes Shutterfly especially great, is that my cards will be free! If you write a blog and want to tell others what Shutterfly has to offer then yours can be free too! Click here for details.

We absolutely must take advantage of this offer since this year we live in a winter wonderland. Alaska is truly the perfect Christmas backdrop. Our family from Alabama, Georgia, and California will likely enjoy getting a Christmas card from their wayward sons.

I love the look of the cards that feature one great picture. Simple is great. Of course, I probably won't be able to choose just one photo so I might go with one of the multi-photo card designs.





How ever do I choose?

I absolutely love my etsy shop. But I mostly love it when I sell stuff.

When I sell something from my store, no matter how small, it gets me PUMPED. I yell out to whomever is listening, "I sold something! I sold something!", say a little thank you prayer, and get to packing it up.

It was a great book.

If I am not selling stuff, and spending time photographing, uploading, and describing merchandise, I feel like a big 'ol time waster. I have an affliction that renders me utterly ambitionless unless I am successful, like immediately. So. AND, my favorite part of the etsy experience was going out to find the goods at thrift stores, estate sales, and yard sales and now that I don't have that to look forward to, I've lost momentum. Ho hum.

Well, Russell doesn't live here anymore. Russell has been sent back to live with the man who gave him to us. Here's why.

He snapped at Rin Tin Tin two separate occasions. He never broke the skin and likely only meant to intimidate but that's no good either. Family pets should never feel the need to intimidate members of the family.

Within the first few days of Russell's time here, Rin Tin Tin welcomed him by laying an abrupt hug on him from behind. His reply was to show his teeth, growl, and snap at her. While he didn't get off scot free, I let him live. I let him live because I figured kids don't need to be jumping on dogs from behind. He was scared and he was new. We gave him another chance.

He grew to be an easy going, sweet tempered dog. He soaked up all the love he could get from me and Chuck and on many occasions, happily received love from Rin Tin Tin. But if she was doing anything other than petting him, like say running around the house pretending to be a wild jungle girl or sitting on the floor playing with her Cinderella figurines, he considered her a threat. It was as if he viewed her as another dog, rather than a human.

Once when I was petting Russell, Rin Tin Tin approached us (as children often do) and he snarled at her. He didn't want her to interfere with his pets. That wasn't the only time he growled at her. And he was incredibly strong to boot. He couldn't be trusted. What if one day Rin Tin Tin decided not to heed to his growls? Should a child feel the need to back away from a dog in her own home? Heck no. I mean, I am all for giving a dog his space, but dog's don't make the rules in this house. If a dog can't be even tempered enough to deal with his 'bubble's' surface being punctured without acting out in violence, then he doesn't belong here.

We began limiting his time indoors. He spent his days and early evenings on the arctic entry with frequent potty breaks. After Rin Tin Tin went to bed, we closed her bedroom door, and let Russell in for the night. This arrangement was not ideal. It was only temporary.

The last draw came when Rin Tin Tin woke up before Chuck and I. She walked into the living room (as children often do) and started to pet him. He growled at her. She popped him on the head as punishment. Then he snapped at her hand. No, she shouldn't have popped him. But she didn't do it hard. And where I come from dogs don't snap at people. Especially not the kid kind of people. He ended up getting her pinky into his mouth, but somehow managed to avoid breaking the skin. Rin Tin Tin began to yell out in fear, sobbing uncontrollably. Russell was punished. And relocated.

I hate that it had to turn out this way. I still believe Russell was a gift from God. Russell confirmed some things we already knew. Chuck sort of knew them a little bit deeper down than I did, so the time Russell spent here helped him to see the light. It was a light I could have never shown him.

A pointing dog is not a good family dog. And it isn't just because our pointing dog tried to eat our child. Hunting dogs (of the upland bird variety anyway) will forever be all about the hunt. Let them out, and they will run. They'll be on a quest for birds for miles and miles and miles. They will forget any children left at the doorstep crying for their beloved pet's return.

Pointing dogs are full of energy. If you live in Alaska, they'll have to be inside dogs for at least 5 months out of the year. Hunting dogs belong in spacious kennels with owners who can walk alongside them while they run, at least once every other day. Men with small children and full time jobs don’t have that kind of time to devote to a pointing dog. Hey, it’s true. Any pointing dog owning dads, with full time jobs, may not want to believe it, but it’s true.

And as much as Chuck loves upland bird hunting, he's a duck hunter at heart. Duck hunters need water loving retrievers. Having said that, another family pet is not in our immediate futures. We aren't quite settled enough for another dog.

I know Russell is in good hands and is likely happy. He most likely believes he was on an extended bird hunting retreat. We've got one less mouth to feed and a safer home. I am grateful for our experience with Russell. I am also grateful his former owner so willingly took him back. I am grateful that our friend Jeff Mason was making a trip to Anchorage and offered to let Russell ride along, then meet up with Russell's owner. What a wonderful solution for what could have easily been a costly and complicated issue. If that wasn't a God sent blessing, I don't know what is.

Remember when I said, "I have determined that there is nothing, nor will there ever be anything, I need at the thrift store or the pawn shop in town."? Yeah. I totally take that back. Once when Chuck and I were broken up, I saw him out on a date. Later he told me, "It's like this Hayley. If a man can't have the car he wants, well, he's still gotta drive." So, if a thrift store loving girl can't have the thrift store she wants, well, she's gotta have some sort of junk buying outlet right? Besides. We had a birthday party to go to and we needed a present. Yep. You read that right.

If we don't have the birthday party invitation in hand on or around the 1st of the month (payday therefore also Fairbanks grocery shopping day) then present buying options in town are limited. Granite View does sell a nice array of children's toys but their prices are steep. And ya'll know me. Just say it. Go ahead. I'm cheap.

Then I sanded it.


Taped up the back...


and the edges.


Then I spray painted it black. This step was probably unnecessary and maybe even not recommended, but at the time I could not find any chalkboard paint at the stores in town. I thought I had read somewhere that all that was really necessary for a chalkboard surface was flat black paint. Anyone know if there is any truth to that? I didn't find out if it would work because I found the chalkboard paint I had brought from Alabama. I used it to add two more coats.


Then Pollyanna and I picked out the letters to spell the little guy's name. We were short a N but Pollyanna and I decided it would be alright to turn a Z on its side as a substitute.


I used Quick Grip glue and while it is really great as far as strength goes, I didn't like the yellow overflow. It it supposed to dry clear. I tried to clean it up but it is super thick so I wasn't able to get it all before it dried. Anyone know of a really strong glue that actually dries clear?


I made this in a few hours. I had to dry it with the hairdryer in order to wrap it.



Green Plastic Food Tray= $2.00
One Piece of Chalk I bought on clearance a long time ago= $1.00

I am thinking about my Dad today. We try to talk at least every other day. He called me tonight worried about the low temperatures he read about in the Gadsden Times. I feel bad when I think of him having to worry about us. I imagine him thumbing through the pages of the paper until he reaches the weather page, and making a mental note of the low digits in Alaska. And then he worries. He worries about our wood burning stove burning the house down. He worries about us killing ourselves with carbon monoxide poisoning in the garage. But he's a worrier. He will always be a worrier.

It was hot that day. It seems like it was hot most everyday in Alabama.



I can't let Candy Corn wander to far off at Dad's house. He lives on a peninsula.
It's the best lot on the river.

Since I am the youngest grandchild in the Mabrey family, I've always been allowed to roam free while all of my aunts and older girl cousins fuss over things in the kitchen. They don't expect much of me. Not that I don't offer. But I guess I will always be seen as a kid in their eyes. In any case, Dad's kitchen is narrow and my Aunt Sara and Judy (Dad's wife) definitely didn't need me crowding the already cramped kitchen just to line up some hot dogs and shape some hamburgers.

They are studying the grill. See the buckets behind them? My Dad is a bucket collector.


Shortly after I took this photo, Dad and Uncle Sonny Boy grew impatient waiting on the grill to heat up sooooo Dad went a got his welding torch. He shot fire out of it onto the coals until they were blazing hot. Fire was shooting everywhere. Why I did not photograph this is beyond me.


Here you see my Dad making a bomb. Yep. I'd say at 1 out of every 10 Mabrey gatherings, my Dad decides to blow something up. This time it was a milk jug. He lit that setaline torch up, tamped out the fire on the bottom of his loafer there so only gas was hissing out, then filled the jug. Afterward, he quickly stuffed that newspaper in the hole to serve as a plug and a wick. He walked it out in the yard a good piece, set it down, lit the fuse, then slowly walked back to the safe zone.


Then, it blew. It was loud. Super loud. So loud Candy Corn began to cry uncontrollably. It was just another day with a Mabrey.



Brothers. 14 years difference between them.


They look like they need a pitchfork or something.


Uncle Sonny Boy means a lot to me. I could say a whole lot more but it would make me too homesick and take me way too long.


Me and my Dad. I love him.