I hope y’all had a happy Thanksgiving. I’ve been mulling over just how to describe my holiday … there were so many nuances.
On 1 hand, it wasn’t bad. We spent 2 days with My Guy’s family. There was plentiful food and a scavenger hunt.
On the other hand, we spent 2 days with My Guy’s family. An intervention was planned, and I surreptitiously drank wine out of a coffee cup.
Yep. That about covers it.
I had fun antiquing with my MIL, and I scored a Griswold mailbox for the hopefully soon time we rip the rotted lean-to off the front of our house and have an actual front porch. My 9-month-old nephew is a happy baby and such a charmer. When I kept refilling my coffee cup with wine, no one commented, and I have to say that Riesling is an easy-drinkin’ accompaniment to any family gathering.
My FIL was more than an hour late. His almost 40-year-old son sat next to the door, visibly hurt. “I’m afraid if he gets here and the door is shut, he’ll have an excuse to just turn around and leave. I called and left messages. I don’t know where he is.”
My heart crumbled. The best I could manage was a “Good Will Hunting”-esque, “It’s not your fault.”
My MIL told me in confidence that she worries to this day that her kids might be mad at her for divorcing their dad because it allows his crazy to flow free. Again, my best response was, “It’s not your fault.” Thank you, Robin Williams.
I guess this is what it’s like to get more ensconced in a family.
And being more ensconced means that I also did not ask who the hell thinks they can have Thanksgiving without stuffing. Even though I wanted to.
Seriously. Who the hell thinks Thanksgiving is complete without stuffing? What the hell sort of low-carb family did I marry into?