Today is Thanksgiving Day, and thanks to God Almighty above the Catholic family and I made it safely to Minnesota to break bread and whoop it up for the Green Bay Packers with relatives. But must I tell you, seeing all those jackknifed tractor trailers, cars in ditches and accidents along the way under icy conditions was enough to make anyone reconsider and go back home again. And it was dark out there, no less, because after that last Daylight Savings time shift, we’re in the dark one hour earlier (@6:00 p.m.) There I go digressing again, so back to the topic of this blog: Thanksgiving Day.
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Because I’m stinking up the place with my roasted chicken with lemon pepper fettuccini and trying to think of a blog topic, that’s why. Sometimes the mind draws a blank, especially after a weekend of endless laundry and toilet bowl scrubbing. All creativity exited out that window over there.

Yes, that one. *points finger*

What’s in your lunch today?

That would be today: The Friday Before Thanksgiving. So basically I’ll be packing suitcases all weekend, because we have absolutely NO family members living in our area and if we want to spend time with anyone outside of our immediate family on holidays, we’re required to pack and head out of town. And by the way, our town isn’t exactly a magnet for tourism, so off we go.

The exciting thing about our Thanksgiving jaunt this year? Well, we’ve decided to take THE VAN. That’s right. We’re taking the insipid finely preserved 11-year-old-vehicle to the Twin Cities, the one we bought 3 months after learning we were expecting Catholic Girlie. So why are we doing this to ourselves when we could be driving a much newer SUV? Umm. Not sure really, but it involves something about ‘burning the carbon’ out of the engine.

Okay. So on with the packing.

What are your plans for Thanksgiving?

Bear with me right now. As much as I want to blog what’s going on in my head/world, I just can’t bring myself to do it. Basically, I’m taking it one day at a time. Oh geez, now I’m really becoming Valerie Bertinelli now… God help us all.

Don’t worry—it gets better, I promise.