Thankful!

Thankful for:

A big, happy, healthy, loud, witty, capable, prosperous family. (knock wood) And when I say "prosperous" I don't mean "rich," because there are always rough patches with money (I'm having one now,) but even during the rough patches, no one's homeless or cold or hungry. I'm thankful that a "rough patch" means, damn, I can't buy that chair, damn, I can't go on a trip somewhere right now, damn, I might have to wait a few more years before I see Hawai'i again. And I know that there are people out there for whom a rough financial patch means "damn, I might not eat today." Huge diff.

I'm thankful that all my pets are well and healthy (knock wood) and I can care for them in a way they deserve.

That I can get out of bed with relatively little pain on most days, and I can dance my fool head off on most days and not worry too much about my joints aching or going to pieces (knock wood again. Hell, I should just knock wood for this whole entry. ^_^ ) A rough patch for me, healthwise, is "damn, I can't get up the stairs too well today." I know that there are people for whom a rough patch with their health means, "Damn, I might not live until next week."

Today it was my parents, my Grandma, my Uncle Don and Aunt Betsy, Spencer and Meghan and myself at my parents' house. I decided to make vanilla chocolate/toffee chip ice cream. I hadn't made ice cream in seventeen years (Spencer: "Dang! That's before I was even born!" Me: "Shut up, you!") and the old recipe is long gone. The ice cream I used to make was the best ice cream I've ever had in my life, but I totally could not remember exactly what I used to use. So I just threw a bunch of stuff together from what I could remember. It didn't quiiiite work out the way I'd planned; the new ice cream maker didn't work, and I think I really did need the eggs, because the ice cream never gelled enough to freeze solid. It was more like cold cream. ;) But it was still delicious, and I brought my little CD player to my Mom's kitchen and played a bunch of random songs I had put on a CD. Or maybe not so random, because I told everyone it was holiday music, and then I played a lot of Cherokee stuff like stomp dances and my favorite circle dance ("Lay O Lay Ale Loya") and did a stomp dance in the kitchen (I learned by watching at Powwows.) My Mom said, "this doesn't sound like holiday music" and I said, "I didn't say Christmas, I said holiday. Thanksgiving!" ^_^ ) And Spencer joined me by doing the broken robot dance and air guitar. To the stomp dance. My Mom likes Native music a lot, but she did sort of take exception when I played some Lo Fidelity Allstars and, uhh, Usher.

( I have issues. )

Anyway. I made stuffing, too, some for my Mom to put in the turkey and some vegetarian stuffing for me, and my Mom bought some mushroom gravy for me, too, which is really delish.

After a while, Spencer found the ancient bass guitar that Celia used to use when we played in (what we were pleased to call) a band together when we were in high school. I can't tell you how much butt this boy kicks when he picks up any musical instrument, he's in a like a million bands, and one of the bands actually gets professional gigs out here. The boy is fifteen. (Actually he'll be sixteen in a few weeks. Sixteen is how old I was when he was born and his mother brought him back to our house. I put headphones next to him and played "Crazy Train" while he slept in his crib in my bedroom. [He and his mother slept in my bedroom, and I temporarily slept in a spare room back then. I can remember so well sleeping in that room that year. I slept with the lights on and there was a stereo, and I had an Iron Maiden CD and an AC/DC CD and I would leave one or the other on repeat all night so I could get to sleep. Whichever song was playing when I woke up to go to school was a sign of how my day would go. Like I said: issues.]) Also, Spencer is now my height and will soon be taller than I am. I'm 5'9", so that's no small thing.

Speaking of, I think that Meghan will someday top six feet. She's tall and gorgeous, (twelve! Holy crap, she's twelve!) much more gorgeous than I could ever have hoped to have been when I was twelve, although all we hear is that we look exactly alike. She has a similar style of look to the way I looked when I was her age: we're both tall and about the same proportions and basic body type. We do have similar eyes and I don't know where we managed to get the same mouth (I'm a dead ringer for my Dad's mother, Meghan is my cousin on my Mom's side,) but her features are so much more refined and even than mine ever were. The child can dance. And sing. And write. She showed me something she wrote one time, and at first I thought I was reading an excerpt from some published novel before she told me that it was the setting she had written for some RP she was doing. Holy god.

As is a sort of tradition, we played some Super Smash Bros. Melee. I hadn't played that game in like two years and I couldn't remember how to control it; I kept trying to do all my Soul Calibur moves so I basically sucked.

( Back in the day... )

Then it was time for dinner, and let me tell you, in this family, dinner is over really quickly. ;) It's gone just about as soon as it hits the table. I'm glad that I didn't gorge myself the way I usually do, although I did have pie ("PAH!" as everyone calls it,) and then some of the mushy ice cream I had tried to make. It was pretty good.

After that, it was time for us all to sit down and make plans about our trip to Disneyworld in February. Sometimes I think that making the plans is just as much fun as going there, although I do always love the day that we leave. Or rather, the day before Betsy and I leave, because we fly there while everyone else drives. By that time, all the animals are set to board at work (I always stress so hard with getting Pendragon all set to board, and am always so relieved when he's settled there--though never 100% relieved until I have him home again.) We always have a pizza that night, and then the race is on, who's going to get there first, the flyers, or the drivers. The drivers leave the day before and drive through the night. Once, they beat us by five minutes, I kid you not. So, after dinner we started making travel plans.

Then we watched some Seinfeld repeats for a while and I eventually ended up getting out the photo albums from about 4 years ago till now.

It sounds idyllic and it is, or maybe I get carried away during the holidays. I'm one of those people who just loves this season and I never take it for granted, never. I love the lights and the music and the shopping and seeing my family and the Christmas tree and the baking and blah blah. I love it, but it's not perfect. I have nothing to angst about because hey, I have perspective: there are people who won't ever go to Disneyworld, and who won't ever sit around with a huge family making travel plans in a comfortable living room with kids playing video games in the background.

( BUT... )

Odd, really.

Anyway, while I'm not exactly thankful that I have to get up early and work tomorrow, especially since we are going to be insanely busy and we kennel chicks are going to get our asses handed to us, I am awfully thankful to have a job that I more or less enjoy, with people whom I more or less enjoy, too. I really do genuinely like most of my co-workers, too. We get social together and we always have a great time. Even at work, we can always make each other laugh on a rough day, or make the day go faster just by being goofy sometimes. It's a sort of fun group dynamic, on most days.

Speaking of getting up early, I guess I should get my ever-widening butt to bed.

I hope all of you on my F-list have had an equally wonderful and even more fulfilling holiday than I had. This coming weekend is the time to decorate for Christmas! So have fun with that. I know I will. (Uhh, until something breaks and this string of lights doesn't work and I can't find that garland I like and... ;D )

Thankful!

Thankful for:

A big, happy, healthy, loud, witty, capable, prosperous family. (knock wood) And when I say "prosperous" I don't mean "rich," because there are always rough patches with money (I'm having one now,) but even during the rough patches, no one's homeless or cold or hungry. I'm thankful that a "rough patch" means, damn, I can't buy that chair, damn, I can't go on a trip somewhere right now, damn, I might have to wait a few more years before I see Hawai'i again. And I know that there are people out there for whom a rough financial patch means "damn, I might not eat today." Huge diff.

I'm thankful that all my pets are well and healthy (knock wood) and I can care for them in a way they deserve.

That I can get out of bed with relatively little pain on most days, and I can dance my fool head off on most days and not worry too much about my joints aching or going to pieces (knock wood again. Hell, I should just knock wood for this whole entry. ^_^ ) A rough patch for me, healthwise, is "damn, I can't get up the stairs too well today." I know that there are people for whom a rough patch with their health means, "Damn, I might not live until next week."

Today it was my parents, my Grandma, my Uncle Don and Aunt Betsy, Spencer and Meghan and myself at my parents' house. I decided to make vanilla chocolate/toffee chip ice cream. I hadn't made ice cream in seventeen years (Spencer: "Dang! That's before I was even born!" Me: "Shut up, you!") and the old recipe is long gone. The ice cream I used to make was the best ice cream I've ever had in my life, but I totally could not remember exactly what I used to use. So I just threw a bunch of stuff together from what I could remember. It didn't quiiiite work out the way I'd planned; the new ice cream maker didn't work, and I think I really did need the eggs, because the ice cream never gelled enough to freeze solid. It was more like cold cream. ;) But it was still delicious, and I brought my little CD player to my Mom's kitchen and played a bunch of random songs I had put on a CD. Or maybe not so random, because I told everyone it was holiday music, and then I played a lot of Cherokee stuff like stomp dances and my favorite circle dance ("Lay O Lay Ale Loya") and did a stomp dance in the kitchen (I learned by watching at Powwows.) My Mom said, "this doesn't sound like holiday music" and I said, "I didn't say Christmas, I said holiday. Thanksgiving!" ^_^ ) And Spencer joined me by doing the broken robot dance and air guitar. To the stomp dance. My Mom likes Native music a lot, but she did sort of take exception when I played some Lo Fidelity Allstars and, uhh, Usher.

( I have issues. )

Anyway. I made stuffing, too, some for my Mom to put in the turkey and some vegetarian stuffing for me, and my Mom bought some mushroom gravy for me, too, which is really delish.

After a while, Spencer found the ancient bass guitar that Celia used to use when we played in (what we were pleased to call) a band together when we were in high school. I can't tell you how much butt this boy kicks when he picks up any musical instrument, he's in a like a million bands, and one of the bands actually gets professional gigs out here. The boy is fifteen. (Actually he'll be sixteen in a few weeks. Sixteen is how old I was when he was born and his mother brought him back to our house. I put headphones next to him and played "Crazy Train" while he slept in his crib in my bedroom. [He and his mother slept in my bedroom, and I temporarily slept in a spare room back then. I can remember so well sleeping in that room that year. I slept with the lights on and there was a stereo, and I had an Iron Maiden CD and an AC/DC CD and I would leave one or the other on repeat all night so I could get to sleep. Whichever song was playing when I woke up to go to school was a sign of how my day would go. Like I said: issues.]) Also, Spencer is now my height and will soon be taller than I am. I'm 5'9", so that's no small thing.

Speaking of, I think that Meghan will someday top six feet. She's tall and gorgeous, (twelve! Holy crap, she's twelve!) much more gorgeous than I could ever have hoped to have been when I was twelve, although all we hear is that we look exactly alike. She has a similar style of look to the way I looked when I was her age: we're both tall and about the same proportions and basic body type. We do have similar eyes and I don't know where we managed to get the same mouth (I'm a dead ringer for my Dad's mother, Meghan is my cousin on my Mom's side,) but her features are so much more refined and even than mine ever were. The child can dance. And sing. And write. She showed me something she wrote one time, and at first I thought I was reading an excerpt from some published novel before she told me that it was the setting she had written for some RP she was doing. Holy god.

As is a sort of tradition, we played some Super Smash Bros. Melee. I hadn't played that game in like two years and I couldn't remember how to control it; I kept trying to do all my Soul Calibur moves so I basically sucked.

( Back in the day... )

Then it was time for dinner, and let me tell you, in this family, dinner is over really quickly. ;) It's gone just about as soon as it hits the table. I'm glad that I didn't gorge myself the way I usually do, although I did have pie ("PAH!" as everyone calls it,) and then some of the mushy ice cream I had tried to make. It was pretty good.

After that, it was time for us all to sit down and make plans about our trip to Disneyworld in February. Sometimes I think that making the plans is just as much fun as going there, although I do always love the day that we leave. Or rather, the day before Betsy and I leave, because we fly there while everyone else drives. By that time, all the animals are set to board at work (I always stress so hard with getting Pendragon all set to board, and am always so relieved when he's settled there--though never 100% relieved until I have him home again.) We always have a pizza that night, and then the race is on, who's going to get there first, the flyers, or the drivers. The drivers leave the day before and drive through the night. Once, they beat us by five minutes, I kid you not. So, after dinner we started making travel plans.

Then we watched some Seinfeld repeats for a while and I eventually ended up getting out the photo albums from about 4 years ago till now.

It sounds idyllic and it is, or maybe I get carried away during the holidays. I'm one of those people who just loves this season and I never take it for granted, never. I love the lights and the music and the shopping and seeing my family and the Christmas tree and the baking and blah blah. I love it, but it's not perfect. I have nothing to angst about because hey, I have perspective: there are people who won't ever go to Disneyworld, and who won't ever sit around with a huge family making travel plans in a comfortable living room with kids playing video games in the background.

( BUT... )

Odd, really.

Anyway, while I'm not exactly thankful that I have to get up early and work tomorrow, especially since we are going to be insanely busy and we kennel chicks are going to get our asses handed to us, I am awfully thankful to have a job that I more or less enjoy, with people whom I more or less enjoy, too. I really do genuinely like most of my co-workers, too. We get social together and we always have a great time. Even at work, we can always make each other laugh on a rough day, or make the day go faster just by being goofy sometimes. It's a sort of fun group dynamic, on most days.

Speaking of getting up early, I guess I should get my ever-widening butt to bed.

I hope all of you on my F-list have had an equally wonderful and even more fulfilling holiday than I had. This coming weekend is the time to decorate for Christmas! So have fun with that. I know I will. (Uhh, until something breaks and this string of lights doesn't work and I can't find that garland I like and... ;D )