A Blast from the Past Thanksgiving

This was from Thanksgiving 2011… hope your 2013 celebration is wonderful!

You know, I don’t truly appreciate our routine around here until we have a week that throws it completely off. Once that kind of week happens, I find that my OCD comes out in full force, and I scramble for anything to micromanage. This Thanksgiving, I chose to focus my routine-sustaining energies into packing snacks and administering snacks to the backseat while I drove solo with the girls for fourteen hours. How did that work out for me? Well, by the end of it, we were all sharing milkshakes (forgive me, calorie counter) and pitching our trash on the floor because Mommy was nearly losing her marbles. Fourteen hours in a car with children who can’t seem to breathe without upsetting one another throws all routines and planning out the window. (Figuratively and literally in this case, since they did manage to turn off the child locks on the windows and throw something out on some Texas freeway. Oh, yes, we have MESSED with you, Texas!)

Anyway, we’re back in Duncan, and with church today and school tomorrow, life is back to normal. Ahhh…

The Faulk Thanksgiving began on Monday night when we drugged Charlie. Yes, drugged him. We wanted to take him down to San Antonio with us rather than kenneling him, so on the vet’s suggestion and thanks to his prescription, we tested out a calming sedative to make the trip less traumatic for him. We were told to test the dosage the night before, to see what it took to get a one hundred pound dog down. And it takes a lot. More than we felt safe giving him since he was walking around with some crazy spaghetti legs yet fully alert after just one pill. All that said, one pill was enough to mellow him out, so he was feeling pretty good when we hoisted him up into his chariot on Tuesday morning. Which was no small feat, especially for the unlucky girl (me!) who had to lift his furry buns into the truck while he wiggled and kicked.

The day improved significantly when I got to go to Em’s school for the Pre-K Thanksgiving feast. Is there anything better than watching a bunch of four year olds parade around in pilgrim and Indian costumes? The only thing better was watching Em eat every last bite of her food, which meant that we were the last ones to leave. I had another mother tell me that her son always tells her how pretty Emma is and that she’s his girlfriend. I asked Emma about it later, and she said, completely disinterested, “Oh. Him.” Ahh, her passive lack of interest reminds me of how I originally felt about Wes after meeting him eight years ago. Memories…

I took Em out for ice cream while we waited for Ana to get out of school. The moment that bell rang, we were in the car and on our way, with a quick stop for dinner in Decatur before arriving at my parents’ house in Alvarado. We spent the night there, then got up early the next morning for the drive down to San Antonio where I exited off onto the wrong freeway for Wes’s parents’ house (ahhhh!!!) yet still managed to get there. Somehow.

You would think driving in San Antonio would be easier once we reunited with Wes, but it sure wasn’t. He had planned a birthday date for me that evening, so after the girls left to go to Kiddie Park with Coach and Nana, we left for dinner and a movie. Wes had gotten tickets for Breaking Dawn about a week ago, and I noticed that the name of the theater didn’t sound right. Wes assured me that he knew which one it was, but he said we’d go by just to check. And it was a good thing we did because our tickets were for the same theater… just the branch way on the other side of the city! (You have to admire how clever he was in trying to get out of seeing this movie, but it didn’t work. Good effort, though, Wes!) The drive to the other side of town was educational as it took us through neighborhoods I had never seen and which Wes said weren’t safe to see unless in broad daylight. Fan-tas-tic!

After the movie, we went to the mall and made our plan of attack for Black Friday. You know, practicing our kickboxing moves in the Disney store and running sprints (while giving great warrior cries) through Macy’s. Because that’s what Thanksgiving is all about. (I kid, but we do love Black Friday!)

We started Thanksgiving by running with Wes’s dad who is totally going to leave us in his dust at the Disney 5K. After keeping pace with him, we were ready to eat some turkey, which was a rarity this year, as the family usually opts instead for steaks. I’m not a huge turkey fan, but this particular bird was delicious. Perhaps it was the stick of butter Aunt Cindi bathed him in. Mmmmm….

After a full day of giving thanks (and eating a lot — forgive me, calorie counter), Wes and I got up at 4am and had already saved $246 by sunrise. LOVE it when stores tell you just how much you’ve saved because you got there at the most unholy hour imaginable. We celebrated our success with breakfast tacos (forgive me, calorie counter!), packed up the cars, and headed back to DFW. Ana and Emma spent almost the entire leg of this part of the journey singing the theme song from Duck Tales to me. I like a good song about rewriting history and solving mysteries here in Duckburg as much as the next girl, but still. We somehow survived.

After another night at my parents’ house, we took the girls to get their picture made with Santa at Bass Pro Shop. Em was convinced that we were at Port Orleans Riverside at Walt Disney World (thanks to a bridge and a waterwheel), and Ana said of every stuffed and displayed predator bringing down lifelike prey, “That is NOT nice.” True enough, I guess.

We finally arrived back in Duncan just after dark, where I got to sleep in my own bed. These things matter when you’re an old fossil like me, as I am now the ripe old age of 33. (Though I spent most of the week thinking I was turning 34. Ahh, sweet senility.)

So, that was Thanksgiving. Only three more weeks of school, then Christmas, then the marathon. Our shortest run this week is nine miles, so I would appreciate your prayers for some global warming as it isn’t supposed to get over forty degrees this week. I can run in the heat with few problems, but running in this kind of cold is just brutal. As Wes said after today’s run, “I’m hot and cold all at the same time!” We will survive even this, surely. So ready to finally be able to call ourselves marathoners!

And on that note, I better hit the hay so that I can hit the pavement early tomorrow. Hope your week is off to a great start!

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