Boy, that guy likes velvet

Thanksgiving 2006 will forever go down in the Bookish family lore as the year J-- S----- tried to kill me.

It started cordially enough when I mentioned that, ever since undergoing chemotherapy, my alcohol tolerance is much higher, and my hangover rate is much lower.

J-- took this as some kind of challenge, and asked, "What are you saying? Are you issuing a challenge?"

I hadn't been. But suddenly it seemed like the thing to do.

He spent the next two and a half hours refilling our glasses. Sometime after dessert, I managed to find my way to the sofa, where I fell asleep (or something like that). I woke up and found Lila and her mom watching an interview with Mel Gibson about Mayans.

I hoped I was hallucinating, but an ad spotted on TV today tells me I wasn't.

And J-- thinks he won. That's OK - I'll give it to him.

Dear J--, you can officially outdrink a 120-pound cancer survivor.

PACKING MORE DAY IN YOUR DAY

Today was my brother Thor's 32nd birthday, so the whole family came over to our house, and we ate leftovers and soup and sandwiches. (J-- quietly recovered on the sofa most of the afternoon. Me? I've been fine all day.)

We had cake and presents, and then all the women ran giggling upstairs so we could put together our baby bed and make it up with the pretty, pink, ovulation-inducing crib set that Sunshine gave us.

No sooner was the bed together than we all had to pack up and head into the village for the big annual Christmas "parade."

Bee had two invitations to ride in the Santa entourage, so we bundled up and stretched our waving hands.

Santa and Mrs. Ms. Claus arrived, and took their seats on a sleigh that was sitting on a platform-type wagon being pulled by two Belgian draft horses. The sleigh sat in the center of the platform, and was surrounded by hay bales, upon which all the children were going to sit.

Bee didn't want to ride on the wagon, so she opted to ride on the fire engine.

She sat in my lap, and sighed. "I wish my sister was here."

Abot halfway down Main Street (which is all of 6 blocks long), she turned toward me and asked, "Can we do this again sometime?"

The village's mayor, who also was riding on the truck, told her that, yes, she can come back next year - WITH her sister.

SPEAKING OF WHICH

The travel agency called today to let us know that we are leaving one week from tomorrow.

Everyone we tell squeals in excitement. Our stomachs hurt. Oh - we are so unprepared.

We do have an assembled baby bed now, though. So our little one will have a place to sleep without disturbing my dresser drawer full of novelty socks.

Tomorrow we travel to the Big City to load up on supplies such as saline nose spray, baby prunes and glycerine suppositories. We might get some stuff for the trip, too.

And we will definitely partake of some restaurants.

Comments

[ppb]

Oh, I can't wait! And of course you'll get everything you need in time.

[moreena]

Hooray! And I wish you could hear my hearty laugh. It's always a competition somehow, isn't it? I, on the other hand, have pledged to give up alcohol for the next 50 days to make up for my $100 speeding ticket, figuring I spend abou $2/day on my 2 beer a night habit. I was going to post about it, but I couldn't quite figure out how to write it up so it didn't make us sound totally dysfunctional in about 13 ways. I think I need a ghostwriter for my blog. But I guess you're too busy right now, huh?

Best of wishes for the trip, and the preparations, and most of all for all the love that's going to rain down on your head this Christmas.

[raehan]

Exciting. Can't wait to hear about it.