Happy 2010, everyone! Since I didn’t quite make it through NaBloPoMo in November, I’ve decided to hop into it for this month. So here I am, posting today even though I’m pretty tired from last night’s revelry.

As you can see from the photo above, even the gargoyles caught a chill last week when it surprised us by snowing, not once, but twice. Despite the white sky and the smell of impending snow in the air, I didn’t quite believe that we would get any flakes that would stick.

Tex brought home some bags of wood pellets for us to burn in our wood stove. I call the stuff “fire chow” ‘cuz it looks like the typical Purina-style critter feed.

Although I miss friends and family, I still had a wonderful Christmas and New Year’s surrounded by lovely folks, people I didn’t even know this time last year.

Looking back, I find this even more surprising than snow in north Texas.

I expected a lot of nationalism when I moved to Texas, y’know, plenty of flags a-waving, and those culturally myopic “God Bless America” bumper stickers, as though the supreme universal deity cares only for my country. (Hey, I love America, too, but if God plays favorites, I’m gonna tell his mom.) Anyway, patriotism, I understand.

What I did not expect was the Tex-centricness of this particular state. In retrospect, the amount of Texas-shaped things I saw within moments of getting off the plane should have clued me in. On the way to baggage claim, I saw everything from belt buckles, cookies, tattoos, gold pendants, even a dachsund – no, not a Texan-shaped dachsund – but one wearing a sweater with a Texan star proudly stitched on the side.

Yes, it’s pretty hard to forget you are in Texas when you are in Texas; even with a severe head injury, I’ll wager you could figure that one out.

So the other day at Sam’s Club, I came across these Tex-Centric books and laughed. Wait, no, I guffawed (it sounds more Texan to guffaw, doesn’t it?) At any rate, I knew that I must quickly snap some pix to share with those of you who – gasp – live elsewhere.

First off, we have the “Texan Mother Goose,” which features such tales as “Mary Had a White-Faced Calf,” and “There Was an Old Cowgirl Who Lived in a Boot.”

Next, I saw the “Texas Aesop’s Fables,” which features such stories as “The Cowpoke Who Fooled His Friends.”

Next, we have the “Trucker’s Night Before Christmas,” which is written by the same guy who did the Texan Aesop’s fables, so while not all truckers are Texan, there is surely a connection.

Lastly, I came across this little gem, called “Ten Redneck Babies.” What might this be? Why, it’s a a book to teach younguns how to count. Stuff like: “5 redneck babies chomped watermelon. One made tracks – where to? No tellin’!”

Seems that there’s a lot to being Texan. I have much to learn. Wonder where the Texas books for adults are? Hmmm…

Voila! I have, at long last, visual proof that turkey pants, err, trousers, I mean, were actually worn by our London bird. In England, you see, ‘pants’ means ‘underpants.’ I discovered my faux pas after cheerily announcing that I had brought a pair of turkey pants, only to have a dinner guest reply, “I beg your pardon?” in that quintessentially British way, the very tone of which informed me I had – yet again – put my Yankee foot in my Yankee mouth.

My step-daughter, Naomi, created a fantastic Thanksgiving feast, starting with scrumptious bruschetta and ending with a key lime tart. We had all the usual suspects, too: mashed potatoes, stuffing, cranberry sauce, but the cranberry sauce was homemade, and there were some incredible turnips au gratin in the mix, too. She and my son-in-law are foodies extraordinaire, so there were plenty of photos taken of the spread. It was pretty as well as tasty!

There was no need to thaw our trousered Tom since he came from a nearby farm. That’s something I love about London; once you get out of the city center, there’s a surprising amount of countryside and greenspace. There are cows, crops, and sheep a-plenty right by Heathrow, for instance.

Our main London wildlife sighting this time were foxes we’d see darting through the chilly night as we walked home from restaurants and pubs. Naomi told us about one who frequents her backyard. The wily vixen stole a pair of her shoes, returned one nibbled sandal, then made off with a glove. (Did I get that right, Gnome? I was pretty jet-lagged when you told the tale.)

Apparently, fox have a thing for shoes. I typed “shoe stealing fox” into Google and found a bunch of incidents, including an article about a German fox who stole over 120 pairs of shoes for her kits to play with.

I usually visit Naomi and Max during warmer weather, which means that a picnic in Richmond Park is in order, but it was way too cold to ponder that. Still, I love the huge herds of deer roaming there. Plus, the trees and undergrowth remind me of what I’ve seen depicted in children’s book illustrations, which gives me a delightful fairytale feeling. I wouldn’t be surprised at all to hear the Pipes of Pan when I’m there, or to fall into a fairy mound. However, fairy mound or no, our Thanksgiving in London was truly magical and went by way too quickly!