Posts Tagged With: Thanksgiving

A Cheater Post

Can’t write… NaNoWriMo.  And also, 15 people for Thanksgiving at my house.  It’s the most we’ve ever done, and we’re BUSY.  Word count is 47,000 as of yesterday, and I’m poised to win if I just keep on trucking…

So, instead of the usual thing, please enjoy this gallery of photos from that time Brian and I went to the pumpkin patch.  I’ll be back to regular programming next week, when Nano is over and I’m not totally insane.

You know, a little insane.  Just not totally.

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Finally Fall


I’m feeling fairly unable to write this week.  Probably because I’ve been keeping up a 3,000+ words a day schedule in order to catch up with Nanowrimo (it’s going okay!).  But maybe also because I’m always of the opinion that you shouldn’t be that political on the internet and this week is all about politics of the angry, screamy kind.

So instead, let’s talk home stuff.

This is the season when I get to be more of a homebody than ever.  Brian and I upgraded our couch to a new one (it was more than time), and the new thing is nail head-studded, linnenish, and has these shiny round furniture feet.  Best of all, it has a chaise so Brian and I can lounge all over each other when we’re watching TV.  It matches the dining set we bought last year pretty well, too.  So, basically we’re looking stylish.  I’m already drooling over curtains.

We re-arranged our bedroom last weekend, too.  It feels bigger and more cozy simultaneously.  This house has so much more room than our last tiny apartment, so I raided everyone’s art stash when we moved in (and by everyone’s, I mean my mother’s), hoarded any frames I could get my grubby fingers on, and got creative with fancy paper, posters, internet print-outs, and cut up calendars.  It still wasn’t enough to fill the bedroom.  I remedied that this weekend.  My favorite is a print of a boat on a lake with a starry sky behind it that says “It was beautiful, but difficult, to sail it.” It’s a Tolstoy quote, from Anna Karenina.  I can’t seem to find the translation I used now, but here is the whole quote from a different version:

“At every step he experienced what a man would experience who, after admiring the smooth, happy motion of a boat on a lake, he finds himself sitting in it himself.  He found that it was not enough to sit quietly without rocking the boat, that he had constantly to consider what to do next, that not for a moment must he forget what course to steer or that there was water under his feet… it was pleasant enough to look at it from the shore, but very hard, though very delightful, to sail it.”

It makes me warm every morning, waking up to it.

I have the ukulele out, and I’m learning new Thanksgiving songs.  I’ve been madly scouring the internet for chords to “Plenty to be Thankful For,” from Holiday Inn, but can’t find anything I don’t have to pay for.  We’re having dinner at my house, and I’m making pickles (among other things – but the pickles are new – from Jack-At-A-Pinch’s recipe).  The Roger’s Red grapevine is just starting to turn a little pinkish around one or two of the leaves.  The oranges in the grove across the street are turning bright again, and this means that the stand down the street will have them for sale again soon.  We had the first fire in the fireplace last weekend.

Now if only I can manage to serve the turkey on time this year, my contentment will be complete… (I should clarify that by “I,” I mean I’ll be helping Brian with the timing.  I have large amounts of freak-out when I try and prepare the dead bird for roasting, or attempt to carve the thing, so he’s the official cook, because he’s awesome).

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Weekend Miscellany


This weekend has mostly been a confluence of crazy events and family.  My father, a teacher, set out on his motorcycle two weeks ago and hasn’t been back.  We usually have breakfast every Saturday morning.  He texted me this week to say that he’s east of the Mississippi.  Must be nice to just pick up and go like that.  Hop on the back of a bike with the wind in your hair and see the country. 

Brian’s mom put on a fabulous Thanksgiving in August for us on Saturday.  His sister Julie is here from Virginia, a rare occurrence.  There was a turkey in the freezer.  It really was kismet.  Brian and I brought the Martinelli’s and tried to stay out of their way in the small kitchen.  I brought my knitting and my ukulele, and played while Brian sang LP’s “Into the Wild” for Julie, who had never heard it but loved it.  We went home with many leftovers.  I ate almond green beans and potatoes with gravy most of the weekend.   

I had a job interview scheduled for Monday, and very faded red hair with atrocious roots.  Cue the other sister, mine, who helped me navigate through the complicated world of box dye.  It was much easier than we thought it would be, although it’s a miracle that no one passed out from the toxic fumes.  It still lingers in the bathroom.  I ruined the towel I accidentally stole from Yosemite a month ago.  It is streaked brownish red. 

“So not only are you a thief, you’re also a vandal?” said Brian. 

“Yup,” I said.       

My mother gets back from Maine tonight.  We’re picking her up at the Long Beach airport.  Julie flies out early Thursday morning and she’s bunking at our house Wednesday night.  We’re having beef roll-ups for dinner. 

That’s all.  It’s been a crazy week of comings and goings and family.  I’ve taken a hiatus on writing because I’m making an afghan for a non-blood related family member.  I expect to start draft 3 on the 26th.  In the mean time I’m hooking furiously while listening to much bad TV, and some good TV.  I recommend Netflix’s “Orange and Black.”

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