Saintsgiving.

It's hard NOT to steal the "Saintsgiving" rename of the holiday with New Orleans (finally!) doing so well this season, and given my nephew's new obsession with football and love for our Saints.

Our family got together for Thanksgiving last week and had such a great time catching up and visiting. We also ate a little bit...but anyway. :-) We were able to take Thanksgiving dinner to Nan and Pop Ball's, who have dealt with major health issues this year, and get some good visiting in.

And since my sister and her family alternate holidays between both sets of in-laws, we also tied Christmas in with Thanksgiving the next night.

For Christmas this year, my parents and I gave my nephew a Saints uniform, which to our delight, could not have gone over better. Caleb was SO cute as he opened his helmet, then his whole uniform, then his football. He couldn't get into the uniform fast enough, leaving his original outfit laying by the hallway. :-) I, of course, couldn't get enough pictures of him in that precious uniform. It was just big enough for him to be able to wear it for a while, and hello -- is there anything cuter than a child in a too-big football helmet?!

The next day, he played a good bit in the yard with Grandpa, who was more than happy to toss the football and frisbee with Caleb, take him on a tractor ride, and have their traditional race. They were so cute and I, much to everyone's shock, got tons of pictures to commemorate the fun.

Also involved in the weekend were roasting marshmallows (yay for a coastal Thanksgiving cold enough for a fire!), making Mississippi mud with Grammi, lots of battles between the Army, British, Cowboy & Indian figures Caleb brought along, and several movie viewings, including "The Alamo" and "Night at the Museum."

And my weekend was capped off by a situation I ALWAYS love -- time with cousins and childhood friends, who, when the moon is just right, all get to come together for some quality, invaluable hangout time when we're all home. (Naturally, I forgot my camera. It's tradition.)

All in all, it was a fantastic time all the way around, with a good balance for me of work, play, home, and getting out and about.

And...it must be said...how 'bout them Saints?!

The Bottom Line.

My parents are currently working on a HUGE project: reflooring their house. (I know -- ouch! But what a great reward once it's over.)

Anyway, when we were all home for my Daddy's birthday in September, they asked our opinions on the type of flooring they'd chosen. They had a sample and were showing us how it looked against the fireplace, etc.

Caleb was busy flying Star Wars ships around as we talked about it, and at one point when he landed near us, I asked his thoughts on the new floor.

As soon as my sweet nephew made an expression pretty close to the one in this picture, just like it was yesterday, I could see my Grandma Johnson's dining room table, and watch her rolling out the dough for chicken and dumplings while singing sweet hymns in her gorgeous alto voice.

And the ceiling in Nan's house in Woolmarket -- all the wood and knots and how fascinating it looked from way down where I was playing on her oval rug.

And my Aunt Mildred's dishwasher-less kitchen -- the stove and sink and how she was always ready with fun conversation and fresh pitchers of lemonade, no matter what time of year or day you visited.

And Uncle Gary and Aunt Renee's dining room, and the countless meals and birthday parties and cakes (by Renee!) that we celebrated so many fun years over.

And the light fixtures that hung from the wood ceiling (much like my Nan's) at Woolmarket Baptist Church, and how I always daydreamed about swinging from them off the balcony all the way into the choir loft.

It's a strong possibility that a few of those decorative items I'm recalling weren't top of the line, or the most updated recommendations from interior designers, yet they were and still are vital to my memories. They helped compose the lyrics of my childhood.

So, in that rush of memories, I wasn't too shocked when Caleb asked with a puzzled look, "Why would Grammi and Grandpa get a new floor?"

Pulling him into a hug, my mom said, "Well, this carpet is just too old to keep, but you can always remember Grammi and Grandpa's old floor."

And really, she's right.

No matter what floor we're standing on, our memories are a key part of our foundation.

And that (as infamous former Jackson, MS, mayor Frank Melton used to say), is the bottom line.