I have been bad—I have not posted in over a week. I have good reasons, however, and I am going to make it up to you in two different ways. The first will be the amazing video that I took from the stairs leading down to the family room in my in-laws house. Why was I taking video surreptitiously from the stairs? Well, because you cannot let the brooding teenager know when you’ve caught him NOT BROODING.
Better yet, he was being a good cousin, by playing with our six year old niece.
Um, have you noticed that the younger brother is a camera hog? That kid is going to end up on TV, I swear. Sorry for the shaking. I was laughing too hard.
Let me just say that I am thankful for my awesome kids this Thanksgiving!
The next way I will make my absence up to you is to describe the events of the Thanksgiving Day weekend (thus far) that really have nothing to do with the holiday, except for the fact that they occurred during the holiday. It will be an epic post-- at least in length.
We did have a good holiday, by the way. The shit didn’t really start going down until we got back home. You know why? Because I made plans. When I make plans, we all know that something will come around and change those plans for me.
Actually, stuff started happening before we left. Stuff started happening when Ant came home with the script for the school Christmas pageant. Except…
It’s not a traditional Christmas pageant. It’s “A Bug’s Christmas.” Which is fine by me—I like it when they do something in the spirit of the season without making it wholly religious. Save the birth of Christ for your church pageant, and do something about ‘giving’ or otherwise at school.
The only thing that has me a bit flummoxed is that when Ant came home with that script, he came home with the script of TERMITE, #5- SPEAKING ROLE.
Termite? Really? And a speaking role?
Of course Ant has a speaking role. Do you think that child would shy away from the camera or the stage?
Another fun thing that occurs when you’re child takes on the role of Termite, #5? You get to make a costume. A freaking-termite-costume.
And beyond putting a button back on, or fixing a ripped hem, or that unfortunate pillow I made back in eighth grade home economics, I don’t sew. The Nana told me when I was girl that if I made good grades, and went to college, I wouldn’t have to sew. I now realize she lied to me.
So I did what any other girl in my situation would do—I asked the friend I know can sew to help. This is where Jes enters, stage right. You may remember her from the post where I describe J’s favorite wedding ever, and the introduction of the hair dryer that could de-orbit the moon, if I were to point it in the wrong direction. Which, of course, was the reason why I forgot the wedding present.
I am lucky that she’s still friends with me.
This is how I asked her:
Facebook message from me, to Jes: Ever want to be involved in the making of a termite costume? Ever want to ruthlessly mock someone as she struggles to make a termite costume? Either option is open to you...
Text message, from Jes, to me: I am both a talented mocker and seamstress.
Jes has a good right brain. I have a good left brain, but a termite costume requires a good right brain. I know when I am beat. Jes came in with lots of ideas, and I don’t know where I would be without her.
We took a lovely trip to the fabric store on Tuesday evening, looking for materials that would be fit for a termite. This was, of course, after a sit down with Ant to get his creative input and a few quick Google searches to find out exactly what a termite should look like. We came up with a game plan, got the supplies, and sat down to craft Termite, #5.
Well, she is making me learn how to make a costume, while she needle points a beautiful ballet stocking for her daughter’s first Christmas. See, a good right brain.
I’m sure I will post updates to Termite, #5’s transformation as it progresses. I am a slow learner, and it can be difficult to craft termite wings when you have little to no prior experience.
On Wednesday, we set out to visit family for the holiday. We picked up a rental car (because no one trusts our poor car to travel farther than we can walk in a day), and that’s when I first knew that we were going to have some excitement. You see, I always am conservative when I reserve a car—something that my six-foot-seven husband might be able to sit in, but nothing too pricey, nothing that the boys might destroy. I don’t want to be responsible for replacing something expensive in a luxury grade car. It was a busy traveling weekend, however, and J took the free upgrade to a luxury car to avoid the Toyota Corolla that he might be able to fit his right leg in, if he detached it and bent it into a pretzel and stashed it in the trunk.
So, we were faced with traveling to take Sophie to the highly recommended boarder—who happens to live three towns away, in a luxury car with the lovely, soft, black leather seats. Ugh. And then we drove on the red clay dirt roads (after the rain) to get to the farm where Sophie could spend her days running around with other dogs, and horses, and the like, instead of being stuck in a kennel or a cage. Ugh, times two.
This boarder—well, she has the best prices in town as well. So, driving three towns away was going to be cheaper than sticking her in a cage for two days.
We got her there, we got to Grandma’s house, we had a great Thanksgiving, and we watched the first snow of the season. We came home in time for J to go to work on Black Friday. If you work in retail, you never get Black Friday off. Since I avoid Black Friday like the plague, I was charged with getting Sophie back and returning the car. My plan was to do the Sophie bit, get her back home, and dedicate the rest of the day to putting up the tree and decorating the house.
I had diligently waited until the day after Thanksgiving, as decorum requires, to put the tree up. So you know, of course, that this was not, in fact, going to happen, as planned.
More of the story to come tomorrow…
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