thanksgiving day

Turkey is good.
Thanksgiving. One of the best sanctioned-lazy days of the year.

I woke up around 8:30am, hopped in the shower and, after drying, pulled on my most comfortable t-shirt and a pair of shorts. Making my way to the living room, everyone was awake and the kitchen was already bustling. The parents-in-law were both busy putting the finishing touches on dishes that were prepped last night, making them ready to slide into the oven come time. Pouring myself a cup of coffee, I sat down to watch the parade and see what that latest internet goings-on had to offer. The weather is gorgeous, 70s and sunny with the mornings still crisp and cool, and the atmosphere at the house is all family and chatter. I love it; absolutely love it. It feels unlike any Thanksgiving I’ve yet had. Sharaun and I six months into our new daughter and family all around, it really feels grown-up; established, familiar.

Moving on to the weekend’s writing.

I wrote a lot this weekend, but most of it on the to-be-posted “best of 2005” entry. I plan to finish it up in spurts over the next week and drop it sometime while I’m in India. Excited? I thought so. Now on with the now.

Speaking of India, I leave in four days, that’s way too soon. I have nothing prepared – nothing ready; I have almost no idea what I’ll be doing there. I really, really, don’t want to go. I’ve been feeling so slack about work lately, maybe it’s because there’s so much more family stuff to focus on… I have no idea. I am excited about going to India, if just for the travel opportunity and bragging rights – but the “working” part of it has me worried. Ah, whatever, I do this every time I go somewhere. I have one week to pull something, anything, together – I suppose if I knuckle-down I can get something workable together – but will I do it, that’s what I want to know. In reality, I’ll likely do like I’ve done so many times before – I’ll wing it. Just fly across the world with nothing but my limp cock in-hand, relying on my smile and handshake to make the trip worthwhile. Man, this writing-cycle does tend to get old, I can only imagine the reading-cycle… sorry y’allz, let’s move on.

Crazy dreams last night, one in particular that I can remember was super-crazy. I was standing in line for confessional, two people waiting in front of me. I can remember feeling nervous because I wasn’t sure of the proper protocol once I actually got in the confessional. As a kid, I was hardly Catholic long enough to get baptizes, let alone be confirmed – so everything I know comes from movies. Soon I was the lone petitioner in line, and I knew something was wrong when person before me finally came out. I entered and sat down, “Father forgive me, it’s been blah blah since my last confession.” To my horror, I could see that the priest was laying on the ground, blood around his mouth. Despite this, he heard my confession and, instead of assigning penance, told me in a raspy dying breath to find that man who just left, at any cost. I left the church, walking across a green field, scared. Somehow, as things do in dreams, I looked back to find that the priest turned into a small dog, also with blood around its mouth, which was now chasing me as I ran towards my car. That’s it, crazy eh?

Before I go, I wanted to share this with y’all. A long time ago, someone left a message on our answering machine, a wrong number. It was funny. You can listen to it below:


See ya.

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