The Obligatory Thanksgiving Recap

My Thanksgiving was gloriously chaotic, filled with way too many people in way too tight a space, and the babies...oh, the babies were all over the place. It was wonderful. I mean, if you like babies, and family in tight quarters, and sweating your ass off because did I mention 35 people in 400 square feet of space? But still, so good!

I made a sweet potato casserole with a brown sugar and pecan crusted top. I used white sweet potatos instead of the orange ones I used last year. As I made the casserole, my husband commented that it looked good. Once he tasted it, he told me it taseted like potato cake batter. And it did.

I informed him it was the same recipe as last year.

"you remember last year's right? I spent two hours making it and you didn't even try it!"

"this is the same as last year?"

"Yes, I figured you had a mental thing with the fact that the sweet potatos were orange, so this year I tried white."

"I like the taste of the white better."

"they taste the same, you like the COLOR of the white better."


Does anyone else have a husband that won't eat vegetables unless they are disguised as dessert?

mmmmmm....Just as I suspected. Sometimes I know him so well, I scare even myself!

Note to Self

Dear Self:

If you ever spend an entire year painstakingly, lovingly, and consistently chronicling your first year of marriage in a well thought out, and perfectly planned first anniversary present (and in a clever way that stays within the guidelines of the 'paper' anniversary etiquette no less) which you are sure will knock the socks off of your husband and win you wife of the year...please know that depite your dreams of his eyes filling with tears, and a lazy morning in bed together, laughing while reading and remembering this wacky year, he will instead make a big, but brief, fuss over it, tell you he loves you, loves the journal 'bloggy' thing, and then promptly read approximatly only 1/2 of the entries (while you stand over him expectantly) before never EVER looking at it again.

You will know he never looked at it again because you will have spent over 2 hours figuring out 'statcounter' for just such a reason. And you will never get those 2 hours of your life back.

But Self, what I really want to tell you is this: You may feel like you no longer want to blog because, "what is the point really?" I mean you were doing it for him weren't you? And that unromantic son of a bitch can't even click on it every once in a while even though he spends hours, and I mean HOURS, on cbs.sportsline.com. Well Self, don't give it up. Don't give it up, because regardless of whether or not it's important to him now, it will be...when you fall into a coma and he glimpses life without you and while sitting by your side in the hospital remembers the blog and uses his blackberry to re-live all the great memories over and over again, all night...until dawn, when you wake from the coma (unharmed, and with amazingly fresh breath) and he takes you into his arms because he only just now realized how much you mean to him...like really mean to him...

Alright Self, you're not going to fall into a coma, but you will be sorry you gave up the blog thing. You'll miss your friends from blogland, and really you were on the verge of convincing Eliza to actually hang out with you in person...to give it up now would crush that dream forever. Besides, even if he doesn't know it yet, it will be nice to have this journal of your young lives together.

Plus, when you quit blogging, the terrorist win. Or something like that.

Oh, and Self, he may not read the blog, but other than that, he is everything you ever wanted, so you might want to give him a pass on the blog thing (and also, you might want to log onto his fantasy football page, and release Peyton Manning as the quarterback...depending on how hurt you were).

Love,

Me

P.S. You also might want to ease up on the run-on sentences, I am having trouble following myself.

We Married off My Sister In Law

And coming in as a close second for most beautiful girl of the day: My neice!