Last day of 2014, and we spent it lazily in our jammies, playing Pay Day, snuggled up in the new sleeping bags the kids got from Grandma and Grandpa.
In the evening, we went to the house of some friends to usher in the New Year. On the menu? Turtle sandwiches. No really. TURTLE. Of the Snapper variety. In barbecue sauce. My son Quinn, who is so picky he will not eat a pasty or popcorn, ate TURTLE. At least, until someone told him what it was he was eating. Mama didn't touch the stuff with a 10 foot pole, but Daddy has an adventurous streak and downed his just fine. Said it tasted just like pulled pork. Great. The stories of how the snapper turtle was caught and butchered was enough to ensure that it never goes in my belly, thank you very much.
Seriously? Turtle? And they complain about MY cooking???
At midnight, we all braved the frigid outdoors, banged our pots and pans and lit firecrackers.
2014 was a pretty darn good year. We are blessed. Abundantly blessed.













































