Okay, Else, by popular demand. . . Thanksgiving Redux

I'm collecting pictures of signs I like, so here's my first. The Lincoln Highway, for the uninitiated, was the first transcontinental road. It started out pretty rough and eventually was paved from coast to coast.

To really appreciate our Thanksgiving, you have to understand the context. First, Robyn has just been having a rough patch. Her folks are getting old and are showing it for the first time. There's the deal with JD, her brother, and his "lost love" (see Serial Monogamy blog in the archive), and to make matters worse we were going to leave to visit friends in Wisconsin and Robyn and her pal had a falling out and were starting to mend and so basically Robyn was so uptight that you could bounce quarters off her. The kids managed to schedule themselves for work. Damn!

When we got there, early, LeRoy was cleaning and we helped, which was really kind of fun and more meaningful than any ensuing conversation probably would have been, except about that time, JD brought up a subject that bugs Robyn about me (this I will censor for propriety's sake, and in case I run for office), and poor Robyn went off about it, right in front of JD and the girlfriend we're not supposed to like or something. (She's okay, really, except for having 27 cats and a handshake that involves some of the strangest body language I've ever seen.)

JD is familiar with all my foibles after all this time and he's looking at me like "who shot a rocket up her ass?" as I remind her that she has the upper hand here, since I'm not going to even have this conversation right now. Robyn calms down and then JD and I go off and have the first real conversation we've had in about two years, which constituted him apologizing over and over for unleashing his sister on me. (She was already pretty embarrassed by her outburst and this point, and while I'd have been pissed if she'd continued, I mostly needed to just let her settle, because he discomfort at this point was far worse than mine.)

So then LeRoy came up and we worked on getting the meal out. The centerpiece was a wild turkey that LeRoy killed with his new 370 pound, brand new, state of the art thermonuclear cross bow that has to have a special target because the arrows go right through a traditional target (set up so the misses go right into the neighbor's yard?). He must have really been attached to the bird, as it was mummified. Thoroughly dessicated, this bird. Think hush-puppies with a little of that "wild taste" everybody loves. We poured the juice back over it and the juice disappeared. Slurp.

We had a minimum of the usual characters, but my step in laws provided color. Mom hovers and coaches her teens through meal choices, how to sit, where to sit, not to get things dirty, et cetera. My kids avoid these kids by climing the tall pine trees in the yard, knowing the step cousins' Mom would not allow them to climb. Sap, y'know. Robyn commented to her step-sister that her 8th grade daughter could probably handle food choices today. She again rose in my esteem. Can't keep a good woman down.

The ride to Wisconsin was quiet as I pointedly did not scold my wife for yelling at me at the family event. She got together with her friend and it was okay. Work to do, but okay. It's a two way street this friendship thing and it's hard to figure out this conflict deal.

Other scores: Mom stayed sober (fake wine!), as did I (mostly), and since I'm basically having a great life, I think I'll make it on through the next Holiday, whatever the hell that is.

Peace and Obamalama! S.