I was feeling a bit nostalgic last night thinking about my own childhood. One thing that sticks out to me is how lonely and isolated I was. I lived in a small town, very rarely had neighbors or friends over to play with, and no siblings to keep me company (my brother is nine years older). I mostly played by myself including playing board games where I would be all the players.

I remember my childhood as generally being a happy one. But, looking back, I can’t ignore the many long hours I spent by myself. I think I feel worse looking back, than I ever did then. Obviously, I was pretty good at keeping myself occupied! I loved reading, writing stories, playing with my Barbies and toy horses, drawing and coloring, and playing cards and board games by myself.

I think that’s why the idea of a big family appeals to me. I’d love to have a gaggle of kids that could play together. I know it doesn’t always work out that well, since my husband and one of his brothers is close in age and they have always been too competitive to be good friends. But, I can’t shake that feeling I get when I look back at myself and think how much I would have enjoyed a playmate.

Also, we went to see a humongous Christmas tree at a hotel this evening. It really makes ours look small.

Now off to eat dinner with husband and watch a movie on the couch.

my husband

my wonderful, supportive family

my health

my home

my job

my pets

and I am also thankful not every day is Thanksgiving! (there were some fights at the husband’s family meal, but I did not witness them luckily)

I have to get up early to go out of town to eat breakfast with part of my family. Thanksgiving breakfast. That just seems weird that we will be eating at a restaurant when everyone else is still at home baking and watching the Macy’s parade. But it will be nice to visit with my mom and brother.

After that, we rush home to go eat luper (like brunch, luper is a combination of dinner and supper) with my husband’s family. That’s the part I’m really dreading. Not everyone in my husband’s family is on speaking terms with each other and it is sure to be an awkward meal.

I think part of my dread also has to do with the traditional Thanksgiving meal. I love to eat. But turkey and pumpkin pie aren’t high on my list of favorites.

I wish I could skip over tomorrow and head straight to the shopping on Friday. That’s something I can get excited about!

Every year, we vow that we are going to go on vacation over Thanksgiving week rather than torture ourselves. We have yet to do it one time. There’s always next year…

I always hated the part where the teacher would choose some uber-athlete as the team captain. Then the newly anointed would then choose his or her team. I don’t recall ever being dead last, but I was way down the list (like second from last).

I ran track in 7th and 8th grades and the track coach was also the gym teacher. Once he got to know me better, he actually picked me a couple of times to be one of the team captains. I remember feeling very special those days.

I think I am going to quit my job and go back to school to become a gym teacher. Considering that I am pretty out of shape and generally not a good athlete, this is a pretty far fetched idea.* But, I think I could make a difference in middle schoolers lives.

I would emphasize that gym class is a chance for everyone to participate and jocks jumping in front of klutzes to hit the volleyball would be strictly disallowed. I would try to help everyone find a sport or activity that they genuinely excel at and enjoy. And, of course, everyone would have the chance to be team captain.

*My husband laughed until I hit him when I told him my plan. He thinks that the fact I hate exercise should be a clue that this might not the best idea I have ever had. Oh well, one can dream!

At first I envisioned a huge live tree. Then, I realized there would be no way to transport it to our house once we picked it out. My husband suggested we might find a suitable tree on the farm we live on. So, we went for a walk and scouted for trees a few months ago. Everything was either too scrubby, way too small (think Charlie Brown Christmas Tree) or way way too big (think 50 feet).

Once we moved in, I started shopping around for Christmas tree. I quickly discovered a tree over 7 and half feet is unusual. I did find a nine foot tall tree in a catalog. It cost several hundred dollars and could be shipped to my house on a truck. The shipping was an additional cost that I couldn’t justify. I was afraid we might have to give up on our tree dream.

Then, my aunt asked if we would like to have her tree. She has a great room in her house and when she moved in she inherited a 15 foot tall tree from the previous owners. She thought the tree was beautiful, but a little too wide for her living room. She found a skinny 15 foot tree on display at Walmart and negotiated to buy it. And, she thought the perfect place for her old tree was in our house.

Yesterday, we went to pick up the tree. Because it is so large it breaks down into many pieces. We weren’t even sure if we could fit it in our vehicle. But, it fit perfectly!

We started putting the tree together last night. We took turns fluffing each piece painstakingly by hand and putting them into place. Soon we lost our Christmas spirit. Also, it made our hands cramp up. That contributed to the lack of Christmas spirit.

My mom offered to come over tonight and help us finish. It went much faster with all three of us working at once. And, then we put up all the lights we had (900–which wasn’t enough)! I put ornaments on the part that has lights. I’ll have to finish the rest up tomorrow.

It looks gorgeous! It just makes the hosue seem more homey! I’ll put up a picture when I am feeling less tired from hours of slaving over the Christmas tree.

We regularly see geese, ducks, and deer. At least once a month, we see a opossum.

The bad news about nature is that same soft “woof” that caught my attention, caught Dexter, the Neurotic Dog’s attention. He was still sleeping with my husband and he jumped off our very tall bed  to see what was happening. He heard his back in the jump. argh.

As my husband pointed out to me this week, I am known as the big alcohol drinker amongst the two of us. That is an impression I no longer deserve.

I did my fair share of getting drunk in college. There is really hardly anyone I know that didn’t go through the “total lush” phase after turning 21. I enjoyed many a good Margarita on the rocks extra salt, Long Island Iced Tea, and Mike’s Hard Lemonade. I even worked at a restaurant/bar and had my license to serve liquor. Often, I would sit down at the bar or play pool after my shift and have a drink

Most mornings after drinking, I would wake up with hang over. It was a regular occurrence for me to spend at least half the day puking my guts out with a throbbing headache to boot. This seemed to happen to me if I had two drinks or ten. Which is cosmically unfair, I might add.

And, yet, I kept drinking. It was kind of like playing Russian Roulette, but the bullet would have been a morning with no hangover. It was a very rare event.

The actual night I spent getting drunk could be a fun crazy night where I convinced my friends to dance like maniacs, play Truth or Dare, or sing karaoke at a local bar. Or they could be nights where I spent hours pointlessly hitting on guys that didn’t like me, then crying and accusing my friends of making moves on those guys.

I pride myself on being someone fun to be around at a party, and to be perfectly, honest, in most situations I don’t need alchol as a social lubricant for dancing, telling people the truth about myself and my past, or singing karaoke. So, the drinking was really a pointless activity for me.

More than three years ago, I attended a wedding where I drank the entire county dry of vodka (or at least it seemed like I did). The next morning, it was Pukesville Party of One in my hotel room. As I sat on the floor of the bathroom, I asked myself how I could let myself get into this situation again. There is really nothing more miserable than being sick and knowing that you could have prevented it.  I didn’t feel like a responsible adult in that moment. So, I vowed I would never drink again.

And I haven’t.

I’m pretty proud of myself too.

No one around me really seems to get it. Many people have asked me why don’t I continue drinking, but only drink in moderation. Many people are able to stop after one drink. I wasn’t an alcoholic by conventional definitions, but I never was able to stop after just one. Because after the first one, the second one sounded like a really good idea. And, the third was was foregone conclusion after the second one and so on. It really has to be an all or nothing thing for me.