Are there peanuts in New Guinea?

Now that the first of the two big Holidays is over and I've had a little time to reflect back on it already, I've come up with quite a list of observations, (which should show those of you who may have still had doubts just how quickly I can piss-away a Saturday morning typing ridiculous stories onto a computer). I've noticed that in the better part of twenty years of having Thanksgiving's together, Kristy and I have NEVER managed to get ALL the kid's and grand-kid's together at the same time, and the older the kid's get, the harder it is to try, (mostly due to "geographical location"), but also in part because they're all young adults now and have their own schedules to keep as they work to "forge" their own way in life. Another reason for this, at least by my way of thinking, is because of the "rash" of failed marriages that started in the late seventies, and is still alive and well today. The way I figure, just in our extended family itself we have enough "ex's" running around to double the population of one of the smaller islands surrounding New Guinea, should they all decide to go there for some reason. It's not as if I have anything at all against New Guinea, it's just that it's the place that most of us would like to see our "ex's" go. Despite all the arrogance and pride we sometimes show as "adults" when we make the decision to become an "ex", little children tend to remain fairly secure in their lives, speaking very little about wars, poverty, or "nationalized health care". I can truthfully say that at least most of my grand-kid's would probably rather spend their time with me checking for "monsters" in the basement or fishing then listening to Rush Limbaugh. Paige 4 was the first grandchild of only four to arrive at grandma and grandpa's house Thursday, which gave her ample opportunity to sort of "coach" me into the state of knowing exactly what she would expect from me throughout the course of the day, which of course was unlimited access to the peanut jar, as well as giving her a slice of pie with "cool whip", even if she hadn't cleaned her plate first. From then, it was only a matter of time before Caden, Braylen, and Kaylee came over with their similar list of demands and expectations from grandpa, most of which involved playing games of the kind where it makes it extremely difficult to watch the football game at the same time. I think that my house is probably the only one in the entire state of Kansas that is often occupied by human beings who tend to stand no taller than an average footstool, yet have a tooth-pick hanging out of their mouths and a jar of peanuts cradled in their arm. I'm very proud of all of them, and I hope that someday we can actually get all thirteen of them together for a full day of fun and games. I also plan on being at work that day, and keeping up with their activities via text messages from grandma. One thing I've learned for sure over the last few years is that grandchildren are obviously armed with some sort of secret weaponry with which no matter how ragged they run you while they're with you, you will still miss them within seven minutes after they leave, (which is about the time it takes to box the toys up and carry them back down to the basement), and the peanuts make it nearly impossible NOT to think of the little ones, as you will still be finding these in chair cushions and under furniture for several days after the kids have gone back home. Sometimes a peanut will get caught in Kristy's vacuum cleaner and have to be dug out with a screwdriver, and I can tell by the look on her face that she's having a "cherished" memory right then and there involving me giving peanuts to the grand-kid's. This happens alot with tooth-picks, too. Sometimes I think that maybe she doesn't really want me to give the young ones access to the peanuts and toothpicks, but I'm not sure. Sometimes her instructions to me come out vague and difficult to understand. Plus I only really pay attention when she starts talking about sending me to a small island close to New Guinea. The way I see it, in time all of the stray peanuts and toothpicks will be captured and dealt with accordingly, leaving us with little more than pictures and memories, and of course the note I found on my computer desk from Braylen, who is always writing me notes with the full knowledge that I can't read them without my "special" grandpa glasses, and even then she usually has to sit on my lap and point to each line and tell me what it says, while I smile, act surprised, and repeat intelligent phrases such as "oh really?" over and over again. This is a good system, and always ends with a big hug! I'll be saving the note for the next time she comes over, and she can read it to me then. She doesn't mind reading them to me anyway. I think she realizes that grandpa isn't really very good with words.