Our 9 Year Old, a Skating Date, and Thankful Turkeys.

The tail end of October was, as always, the calm before the holiday storm. We survived the end of two sports seasons, and enjoyed a blissful week and a half without hectic evenings and tripping over sports gear in the hallway.

We got to trick or treat at the Department of Justice (the Attorney General himself handed out candy and could not have been nicer), 

and enjoyed our first year in which kids were big enough to run around with friends while we enjoyed a firepit and adult beverages in the driveway. Our neighborhood here has Halloween figured out.

In unbelievable news, our big girl turned 9. She celebrated, as requested, with Kate Spade, Starbucks, 

a girls' trip to Busch Gardens after Ford again chickened out on the roller coasters, and- per usual- a wedding-caliber cake and decorations scenario courtesy of Grandma.

Due to an unfortunate veterinary event, we actually beat Sara to get the first Walters tree up this year (and got in our annual viewing of White Christmas in 60 degree weather),

and I survived a Friday night at the Skate Zone and what was quite possibly Ford's first date.

The lucky lady, fortunately, plays baseball, wrestles with her brothers, and is a significantly better skater than Ford, so I didn't have much to worry about.

We celebrated Gretchen and Jim's beautiful wedding at Fort Belvoir (where Finley, unfortunately and expensively, discovered Beef Wellington),

and dragged Grandma and Grandpa on an epic 10k across the Bay Bridge (having made very poor wardrobe choices in light of the ridiculously breezy weather.)

The kids' weeklong Fall Break found us road tripping to Memphis

by way of North Carolina, where we took very few pictures but enjoyed Shabbat dinner, shenanigans, and this absurd Turkey Trot finish. (T3 and Ford were literally dead last, and crossed like extras in a Rocky movie, pumping their fists at the many, many preschoolers who had passed them on the course.) I am still laughing.

We discovered random holiday decor like this beautiful tree at a strip mall in Knoxville, and made a pilgrimage to Buc-ees. 

Per usual, we enjoyed the ducks

 and the luxury at the Peabody,

bought shots for a band we knew on Beale Street (which reciprocated with ice cream), and made a pilgrimage to Bass Pro at the Pyramid.

The Ana + Ata time was priceless, and worth the drive. Ata scraped BBQ sauce off of picky Ford's Memphis- style brisket and gave shooting lessons,

and we spent a funny monsoon-ing afternoon at the NSA Millington MWR playing foosball and table tennis.

Aunt Jackie's new house turned out to be a kid and dog paradise, and the Memphis Zoo was an unbelievable (if chilly) surprise.

Seriously, it had four red pandas and wrestling baby tigers (?!)

plus lemurs and this incredible crocodile.

We were so grateful for the time with our people.

The drive home was long but we lucked out on holiday traffic, and stopped at our favorite place (River Rock Climbing in Roanoke) to stretch our legs.

We arrived home to Grandma's Christmas decorations surprise (literal best thing ever),

and in time for Aunt Michelle's Thanksgiving Day turkey trot (having been bribed with donuts.)

And then proceeded to spend one of our very favorite holidays making thankful turkeys,

eating everything from gizzards to peanut butter pie (with gusto!), watching a ridiculous amount of football,

and gearing up for our traditional Black Friday activities involving zero retail establishments.

We have so much for which we are thankful, and we are enjoying our long (blessedly warm) weekend at home, reveling in sleeping in and board games and firepits. 

We hope the same for you and yours!

Of moors and monster mini golf.

When I think of Scotland, I will forever think of the sound of water. Of rushing rivers and dancing creeks and bubbling brooks and lake water lapping at muddy shores. I tried to record it at least a half dozen times, and when I got home was disappointed that none of the clips even poorly approximated the sound of the unnamed and overfull creek that tumbled down the side of the munros into Loch Lomond just south of Ardleish.

Of course, all that water meant an inordinate amount of rain, even for Scotland in October. I found myself there in a downpour, having purchased impulse plane tickets to surprise Missy, who was hiking the West Highland Way with friends. Scotland is the land of at least some of our ancestry and a sentimental favorite; we grew up singing about "the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond" while hiking. Missy had had the trip planned for months, but at the last minute I decided I couldn't possibly pass up a chance to meet her on the storied banks. Seth told me to go for it. I spent a week trying to subtly discern her hiking schedule and sorting through the complicated logistics of meeting her on the trail (before breaking down and sending a message to Christine, one of her hiking companions.) 

On Sunday morning, because there are just enough hours in each day to do allthethings, I got up early, met Michelle in DC for our annual tradition of running the Army Ten Miler, raced back, and was just about to go to Ford's baseball game en route to Dulles for my flight to Heathrow when Finley burst into my shower on the phone. "It's Missy," she said. "It's an emergency." The jig, as they say, was up. Scotland was in the throes of a major weather event; flooding had caused road closures and bridge washouts, and parts of the trail had fallen unceremoniously into the loch. Missy and Christine had been turned back at Rowardennan, and were in the middle of a major reroute with dubious transportation.

So instead of surprising Missy on the banks of Loch Lomond, I picked her and Christine up in the soggy hamlet of Drymen in a rented, left-handed death trap of a stickshift, and together we careened north on washed out roads wide enough for 1/2 of our miniature conveyance to beautiful Ardlui. 

We arrived in time to ferry across the lake and pick up the trail north of the washout. We sang "Loch Lomond" at the top of our lungs in the rain, and toasted our good fortune in a cozy bar over typically abysmal Scottish food.

I had only one full day on the trail, and the boggy moors were the stuff of Burns poems. My boots got thoroughly soaked, sheep outnumbered people by a factor of at least a few hundred, 

and we were deeply disappointed that the advent of metal detectors had apparently dispensed with the tale of Robert the Bruce's weapons disposal after the Battle of Dalrigh. We celebrated the day with Scottish ciders in front of a fire. As one does.

Before my sprint back to the airport the next day, I made quick stops at Dumbarton Castle (where in 1548 a five year old Mary, Queen of Scots sheltered before sailing for safety in France) and the Glasgow Cathedral (c. 1136). Because what kind of Walters doesn't cram two weeks of sightseeing into two days?

And then, after perhaps a hearty Scottish joke (this miracle rainbow), it was back to the world of kid sports and Halloween prep and (thankfully, and suddenly) fall-like weather in the mid-Atlantic.

There were a few other September/ early October highlights. Michelle and I ran a relay race across New Hampshire.

F+F broke more boards, and got to see Harper's rugby win over Mount St. Mary's.

We saw Barbie in imax and visited the truly exceptional Planet Word museum, both with dear friends.

We popped up to NYC for the kids' first Tunnel to Towers 5k, a truly incredible event, and a quick visit with the Antals.

We went apple picking (Seth can reach the apples at the very tops of the trees, to the kids' delight),

made our annual pilgrimage to the Halloween store, and played monster mini golf.

And we loved the adorable #greatannapolispumpkins scavenger hunt. 

This October is brought to you with a big thanks to Seth, who nailed picture day in my absence (along with a lot of homework, and at least one Underwear Incident.) And to Heathrow duty free, for the illegal Kinder Eggs. 

Cheers to Fall and a bheil foghar snog agad to you!