My Thanksgiving Weekend

It’s snowing right now.  That has absolutely nothing to do with this post, but I had to tell you.  You want to know these things, don’t you?

For me a holiday isn’t celebrated unless you have a house full of family and friends, there is at least one cooking ‘incident’, and you need a separate kid’s table.  I like my holidays to be filled with too much noise, too much mess, and too much egg-nog.  Not really.

I don’t like egg-nog.  *Gasp*

Needless to say, Thanksgiving was not properly celebrated in my house.  The contributing factors are endless, but no countertops, a temporary aversion to poultry, and plans to travel the day after all played a key role.  I didn’t want to cook a big meal since we were going out-of-town on Friday.  After all, nobody would be home to eat the leftovers, so we went out – an act that is as un-American as not eating pumpkin pie.

I didn’t even eat turkey, not one bite.  I really wanted to go to a BB-Q place in Albany; however, they weren’t going to be open.  No place I called was going to be open, except for the grand buffet that I like only slightly more than McDonald’s.  Although fighting my way in line for some mashed potatoes wasn’t exactly heartwarming, my children appreciated being able to get turkey and gummy-bears on the same plate.

Let this go down in the record books.  I will NEVER go out to eat on a holiday again!  Unless, because there’s always an exception clause, my kitchen has collapsed.  Things like that are always a possibility in my house.

Thanksgiving wasn’t a total bust, Albany is a great place to play on a holiday.  It’s pretty much empty and the steps of the capitol building are a child’s dream, especially if they have bouncy balls tucked into their pockets.

The rest of our weekend went by in a blur.  Despite not being a morning person, I was at Target at the crack of dawn to join the Black Friday riots.  It wasn’t so bad, but I did hear rumors of screaming in Target at exactly 5:01 over a pallet of electronics.  By the time I walked through the doors there wasn’t a cart or basket to be had and the line was at least three miles long.

This is when I became overwhelming thankful for every last labor pain my son caused me.  I stood him in line and told him to follow the woman in front of him at all costs, I’d be right back.  So while my son saved a spot in line, I scurried around grabbing my bargains.  Every few minutes I’d stop back to check on him and fill his arms.  It was a morning that will ensure teenage rebellion, but I risked all for several pairs of $6 boys jeans.

During an excursion to get T-shirts, I reverted to my super-sleuth days as I shimmied up to a red-shirted sales associate and eavesdropped on her conversation.  I distinctly heard something about ushering people through the toothpaste aisle, so I ran back to my spot 4 hours from checkout, grabbed my son, and started running towards the toothpaste.  FringeBoy thought I had finally cracked and he was not happy about losing his place in line, but we found solace just past the toothpaste in the mouthwash section.  A new, baby line was birthed and we were only about 15 minutes from paying.  I felt like I had finally found my pot of gold at the end of the rainbow and I sang “It is well with my soul”.

Friday night we left for our mini trip, so that on Sunday FringeMan could preach in the church where we were married.  My cousin and her boyfriend joined us for breakfast on Saturday where we witnessed a man lose his breaks and run over a stone wall about two feet from my feet.  It was an unfortunate event, but hysterical just the same.

We had a feast that night with my mother and uncle and I slammed my fingers into a door on Sunday morning.  Only problem was that I locked door before pulling it shut and didn’t have the key to unlock it and remove my fingers.

Horrible thoughts flashed through my mind as I contemplated the ramifications of losing two fingers – no more easy typing.

There was nothing to do except yank my hand out of the door and whine over the pain.  I hang onto the hope that I will one day outgrow my clumsiness; however, judging from the way I slammed my ankle into the car door two weeks ago, I’d say it’s a pipe dream.

Care to share any highlights from your weekend?


9 thoughts on “My Thanksgiving Weekend

  1. Pingback: the domestic fringe

  2. robinaltman

    FringeBoy is a little sweetie. Maybe he won’t grow out of shopping with you and saving a place in line. My teenagers love grocery shopping with me. Of course, that’s only because they get to pick out weird junk to try.

    We scammed dinner over a friend’s house. Mwahahaha!

  3. Mindy

    David was inducted into the Mindy’s family way of Thanksgiving this year. Indeed, for well over 2 decades now, we have gone out to eat. Every fancy place in Dallas is open. Most serve a wonderful buffet. No dirty dishes. No slaving away. Just enjoying the family and eating good stuff. I don’t like turkey, so my tradition is to eat a Thanksgiving omelet. I kid you not.

    FringeBoy rocks. Keep him.

    Hope your fingers are healing. OUCH! ~Mindy

  4. Jenn

    Sorry to disappoint FringeCuz, but clumsiness only gets worse with age. Trust me. Eddie calls me his “Little Clutz”. I had many shin bruises to prove it. Such as the one I received while visiting with you on Saturday. Eddie and I had so much fun seeing you. Breakfast was good too!!!

    You are still typing, so how are the fingers doing?

    Was the van still there when you left on Sunday? Was the wall?

  5. red.neck Chic


    I’m with Debbie…no offense, but I giggled and laughed out loud while reading your rendition of “Thanksgiving a-la Fringe”…

    I AM glad your fingers are still intact – it’s amazing what we will do for affordable jeans that will have holes in the knees in a short amount of time – and bouncy balls rock…even at my age. LOL

    You crack me up – THANK YOU for that!!!
    😉 Robelyn

    p.s. I’m guessing your younger than me so with that guess I’m gonna let it slip…clumsiness does not get outgrown, it just gets more…uhmmmm….interesting?

  6. Debbie York

    Nothing I did could ever match your Lampoon Thanksgiving! Girl, you got some great shopping tips…eavesdropping is right up my alley! Do you rent Fringeboy out by the hour to stand in line. My kids are grown and have figured out to avoid me during the holiday season…and after all I’ve done for them! Ingrates, one and all!
    I just want to know one thing…were there witnesses for the door incident? I always make sure there are witnesses for any public humiliation I may incur!
    I think I would rather eat bologna sandwiches than have to eat out on a holiday. C.D. keeps threatening to…like he does any of the cooking.
    Don’t want to hurt your feelings…but I laughed all the way through this post…sorry!


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