First, a quick recap of the weekend...
I have come to the conclusion that I have a phobia when it comes to Thanksgiving turkeys. Or maybe just Thanksgiving. Or maybe just Thursdays. Anyway, Thanksgiving dawned cold and gray, but with our plans for a simple (and small) celebration, Kristin and I got a lazy morning. Well, as lazy as we can get these days. And amazingly, there was not a single, solitary sign of my customary Thanksgiving Anxiety. I stayed peaceful and calm and anticipatory all day. All day, that is, until our friend T showed up with the Turkey. Raw. 45 minutes before we were supposed to eat.
Now, considering that the only people planning on eating with us were T and N & K and that T would understand that not eating on time was TOTALLY HER FAULT and that N & K are two of the most easy going people around (and also run permanently about an hour behind everyone else and that night was no exception), this shouldn't have thrown me. Especially since frying a turkey takes only about 2 hours total (including heating the oil). But as soon as I saw that raw bird, it hit me: Today is Thanksgiving. And the stomach roiling began and the hand aching began, and ANXIETY set in. It just hadn't felt like Thanksgiving before then. I hadn't been frantically cooking. We hadn't been frantically cleaning. We hadn't been in an airport, or rehearsing what we were going to say when my cousin's lurpy husband mentions again how he used to be gay and was saved through the power of prayer (ok, sorry, I'm exaggerating, that's a Christmas thing, I'm getting the holidays mixed up now.) But take one Thursday off work and add one salmonella-laden raw turkey corpse, and suddenly you've got reason to drink. Luckily T had brought a magnum of wine and so after I finished handling the salmonella sponge and getting it into the fryer, I opened it up and began self-medicating. This is not something that I normally do. And I wouldn't say that let myself get too, too medicated. I just let it take the edge off. And, indeed, the edge finally wore off about the time that our friends N&A arrived with pie.
But it was still a good time. The best Thanksgiving I've ever had. And Julia had a great time, was totally adored by everyone, and has decided that she really loves Turkey livers and stuffing. Yum yum. And she was so exhausted by the whole thing that she slept for nearly 24 hours straight. Only waking up to eat and grin and coo sleepily at us before falling back to sleep. I'm sure it was the triptophan in all that turkey we shoved down her. Who knew a 3 month old couldn't handle eating an entire drumstick all by herself?
The other notable event to occur this weekend was the very first snowstorm in the valley this winter. It started out as a hard rain, then chilled to sleet, and finally made it all the way to snow. I am pretty sure this is the latest first snow in the valley ever. I could be wrong about that, but I'm not. We normally have snow in October. Now, don't get me wrong, I hate snow. I hate cold. But this is just strange. I just hope the drought doesn't return. One drought free year is not enough to save our trees. And despite the fact that our trees are slobs, I still love 'em.
Now, for the thing you've all been waiting for. Lauri asked me for a picture of myself with long hair and for a picture of me with blue hair and for one of me in the Bridesmaid's Dress from Hell. Well, I found a picture that shows me in long hair.
You can't see the full length because I curled it for the picture and the picture doesn't go down far enough, and most of the hair is down the back, but you get the point.
As for the picture of me with blue hair, that is a little harder to find. I have my mother searching through the photo archives as you read this looking for one, but since I tend to be a bit camera shy, and my parents didn't particularly want to record that precious moment, there may not be any aside from the ones my cousin from Denmark took. We'll see, in the meantime, since you are all so familia with my amazing artistic skills, I have created an artist's rendering of me in sea weed hair for use in aiding your imagination.
(note the life-like portrayal of highlights and lowlights in the tresses)
I'll keep working on the dress picture.
PS, What is love? Love is stealing one of the new cherry Hershey's kisses from a co-worker's desk and not eating it before bringing it home to your beloved so she can try one without having to buy a whole bag and thus ruining her diet. That is love. And damn, was it hard to do. It kept singing my name from the depths of my purse, promising chocolate cherry goodness, if only I would submit. But. I. Did. Not. Submit.