Woo!

I'm off for Thanksgiving. Of course, Brad has to work almost the entire time, so I'll have to entertain myself - but still, WOO. Five days off! Since Brad's schedule is so crazy, we won't be able to go back to Lubbock for Thanksgiving. Sad. The good news is that we're going to Thanksgiving at my friend Quis's house. Quis (pronounced Kiss) has 47 brothers and sisters, all of them with very cool names like Parker and Spirit and Quay and Canyon and Rio and Van and... heck, that's all I can remember right now. Kind of like Ryan and Christie's animals, there's just A LOT. There is one sister I have not met yet, and she'll be here for Thanksgiving. I can't wait to meet her. Plus, like my own family, their holidays include lots of food, talking, and of course, martinis. So I'm sure it will be fun.

I attempted to put together our Christmas tree tonight, but I'm just not fully committed yet - I've got one string of lights wrapped around it, and the rest are in a pile on the floor next to a very leany, blank tree. That's a project for another day. I am reminded of the year that Ryan and I lived together in the house of much pretty pinkness. We decorated the house on November 11 (why I remember that date three years later is a mystery). We hung beautiful paper snowflakes (Martha Stewart, of course, may she rest in jail) and pink and silver sparkly disco ball ornaments from the ceiling, and pink tinsel garland around the tree and doors. Coming home each day was like walking into the prom in 1984, a Christmas-themed prom sponsored by Target and Jessica Simpson (if she were around in 1984. You know what I mean. GAH.). We threw the greatest party that year, Miracle on 30th and X (X was the name of the cross-street, and it's just not a party if it don't got a clever name, you know), and then left the decorations up until May. Those were the days. Now I'm all misty-eyed.

Last week we booked tickets to visit Brad's Mama Jama and Bruce in California for Christmas. This will be my first time to spend Christmas away from my family, and also my first time ever to actually travel to visit family of the BF. I know and love MJ and Bruce already - but still, there is part of my stomach that flips over when I think about actually getting on a plane and arriving at their door. I can attribute a bit of that to first-time nerves, and a bit more to traumatic experiences from the previous relationship-that-I-have-already-forgotton-well-almost. I know everything will be fun and happy, I really do, and I am looking forward to it SO MUCH. There's just that little voice in the back of my head that's going "What if you screw up? Don't mess it up!" But then again, Jeanne and Bruce are two of the nicest people I've ever met, and Brad is certainly my favorite ever, so what am I worried about? (Don't mind me, it's just the crazy talking.)

Speaking of the BF's family, Brad's dad and his wife Katie came to visit this weekend. For some reason, I got the brilliant idea to see the movie Polar Express to kick off the holidays for all of us. Hey, Tom Hanks! The man can do no wrong. In my head, I thought the movie was for adults, sort of the way that Big Fish was for adults, but weaved through tall tales and magic with ease. I don't know where I come up with this stuff, really, but imagine my surprise when we walked into a theater filled with three-year olds and their caretakers. I am the kind of person who likes to watch movies in complete silence - no "psst - what did he say?", no innappropiate laughing at the sad parts, no coming back from the bathroom and asking what you missed. (Especially that last one. C'mon, people. When you go to the bathroom you forfeit your right to follow the rest of the movie, capishe?) So, forty three-year-olds. Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiight. (They were actually all very well behaved, I must say.)

The movie was beautifully made, and very sweet. And, very long. Really, really, really long. And also, whoever decided that Santa looks like Joey Fatone in a red suit was just wrong. Despite my complete obliviousness, we had a very nice weekend, including BBQ at the Salt Lick. Yum.

Last week I went through this thing where I became really obsessed with the election and recounts and election fraud and I signed up for forty-two mailing lists and shook my fist at the machine that is the mainstream media and then I just... hit a wall. Again, I'm feeling hopeless about it. The thing about looking behind the curtain is that you realize that the Wizard is an old, ugly white man - and a very evil and powerful one at that, not the kind that you can just ask, politely, to get on out of here, cause you're screwing everything up, okay? I feel like I'm sitting in a swarm of flying monkeys, waiting for Glinda to come and save us all. Damn it, Glinda, you're late. They're already pushing their new second-term agenda - and by golly, by my watch, the second term hasn't even started yet. If we were all sane, we still be making sure the votes match the states that Karl Rove told Tom Brokaw to color red, and surely Karen Hughes would be shacking up with Martha at Alderson. (Two Martha references in one post: that's how you know it's the holiday season.)

Okay, again, woo! It's the holidays. Tim is having a "Bring Your Own Lampshade" party that I'll be missing. (I'll let him explain what that means.) Hope you have something beautiful planned, love and kisses to you all, internets!

Lucy loves you |