Testosterone. It's what's for dinner.

Well kiddos, they say the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry - go ahead and add my name to that list. Just days before the Great Family Thanksgiving that my mother-in-law has been waiting for years for, she has been summoned to Florida to take care of her ailing mother and stepfather.

Before you get to thinking that she and I are a pair of ingrates, neither one of us are mad about this - family is family, and this is a serious situation. But it puts both of us in locations where our hearts really won't be in the moment, because the planets were forecast to align in Texas - it was to be The Holiday where both her sons and both her grandsons would sit around the same table and sleep under the same roof.

I know she was very excited.

And I was honestly very excited to give her that moment.

Alas, it is not to be - she is in Florida.

And I am here in Texas.

With her first son.

And her two grandsons.

And her husband.

And her youngest son.

For the record, I absolutely adore men. Some of my favorite people are of the male persuasion. But they're just not that sentimental of creatures - especially the adults in this particular clan. Yet I found a glimmer of hope in the next generation with Oldest's reaction to Hub's offer of running by Costco to grab two extra large pizzas and a couple bottles of red wine for Thanksgiving dinner.

He was mortified.

I told Oldest it could be like Charlie Brown's Thanksgiving table - a selection of random favorites.

He wasn't buying it.

So I will still set the dining room table with the nice china and linen napkins. I will stuff the turkey (figuratively of course - salmonella and all that jazz). And I will put forth the same amount of effort for this beloved group of men as I would have for that one woman.

Because of that one sentimental little boy.

And because Hubs is always so great about doing the dishes.


Happy Thanksgiving to you all!! May you feel the love while sitting around your blessed table - from those there with you and from those far away.

And remember, "Thanksgiving dinners take eighteen hours to prepare. They are consumed in twelve minutes. Half-times take twelve minutes. This is not coincidence." - Erma Bombeck

Once again busting out the trench coat and Jackie O sunglasses.

Sarah Palin's book Going Rogue hits stores this coming Tuesday, and I, for one (or actually one in a very large crowd if the pre-orders are correct), will be at Barnes & Noble to score a copy.

I imagine the entire week will be filled to the brim with snarky snark, sound bites and shit flying, and it kills me that I probably won't be able to weigh in on it next Friday (12,000 words and counting), but I wanted to send you all to an interesting take on Palin from a woman I really enjoyed reading...

I present, Violet - The Reclusive Leftist (yes, you read that correctly) - here's the link: Feminists and the mystery of Sarah Palin (courtesy of a link from a comment within Patterico's Pontifications "Palin Mania" - don't miss the Newsweek cover boys.) She gives Palin a fair shake, which is a heck of a lot better than what a lot of other women are doing. It garnered 486 comments and counting, honest to goodness, a fascinating read.

Come back, and let me know what you think.

For the record, I like Ms. Palin. I may not agree with some of her platforms, but I'm very interested to see what she has in store.

Starting December 1, of course.


(Lord how I miss you guys!!)

Gone writing...

Over the past six days, I've been fooling myself that yes, of course I can walk and chew gum at the same time.

Nope.

Just can't.

See that cute little button to the left (no not MWOB, but that one rocks as well) - the NaNoWriMo badge. Yes, I took the pledge to write 50,000 words of fiction during the month of November. Evidently, to make it count, I have to actually provide a plot and stimulating characters and an ending that makes sense.

I know!

Picky. Picky.

I thought I could stay and play here in bloggyworld, but my will to not read the comings and goings of everyone is just too weak. You guys are an interesting bunch. So I sit, to write, and find myself just clicking on "one" link, then another and another.

Lays Potato chips! That's what blogging is. And I'm a sucker for salt.

So, it is with a heavy heart that I say adieu, if only 'til December.

I just hope and pray that I find my characters as rich and dimensional and meaningful as all of you already are to me.

Wish me luck. I'm going to need it. Deep breath. Jump.

- Em

F.F.F.T. - A moment of clarity, found at my public library.

The victories of Republican Bob McDonnell in Virginia and Republican Chris Christie in New Jersey, coupled with the near win of Conservative Doug Hoffman in NY23 (I'm watching you Dede, curious to see where you land within the White House), have given the GOP a little more pep in its collective step this week.

Rightfully so, I guess. But depending upon the spin you choose to partake (Lord, how I'm dizzy), Tuesday's results are either a referendum for the Obama administration or just the result of a bunch of angry white people stampeding to the polls.

With maybe just a little gray area there in the middle.

Not a judgemental question, but did you vote on Tuesday? Did you really, truly know that you had state elections that day?

Seriously, no stones, because I barely managed to squeak it in myself, and only because I happened to have a few minutes of free time between watching "The Proposal" with good friend Mich (cannot recommend that movie enough! Thanks girl.), grabbing Youngest, running around town and picking up Oldest at school.

Not a fact I'm particularly proud of, but there it is, voting because it worked itself into my schedule.

Midterm elections aren't flashy or historical or cool. They don't make you hip or with it or famous. They don't even call for clever bumper stickers or catch phrases or t-shirt slogans. They just...are.

But what they are is necessary, and when my Youngest yelled "you did it Mama!" after the ballot box swallowed my sheet, I have to say, I felt a little misty. And American.

And it has been quite a while since I've felt "American."

I've felt misunderstood. I've felt condemned. I've felt rejected. But "American?" Nope, not so much these days. My mother would be the first to point out that no one can make you feel something - usually applying that theory to guilt - but let's be honest, there's playing the victim and then there's being aware. I'm just being aware.

My advice to the GOP, and I say this with love and affection and respect - dudes, I'm pretty sure you all won because the Young didn't feel the need to "rock it," the Minorities saw a bunch of white fat cats and decided to stay home, and the Independents, well, the Independents were/are feeling a little bait-n-switched by President Obama and his glorious empty rhetoric of "hope and change." (hey, MSNBC and I see eye to eye. Planets officially aligned.)

Don't let the win go to your head GOP. I'm watching you too.

I'm not trying to rain on any parade. I'm just being a realist. Or maybe, for the first time in my life, I'm really, really paying attention to the issues and the person, not the Party. And I thank Mr. Bush and Mr. Obama for that - you two gentlemen have changed my view of politicians forever.

So all of Washington, consider yourself warned. I'm off to research the pros and cons of term limits and how to completely abolish straight-ticket voting.



(On a personal note, please keep the soldiers, family and friends of Fort Hood in your thoughts and prayers. The heart of Texas is broken today.)

"Friday's Food for Thought" is just an excuse for me to shoot my mouth off on whatever hot button topic happens to be rattling around in my head. Please don't click away mad if I touched a nerve. Call me out if you think I'm full of it. I always enjoy a respectful rebuttal. For F.F.F.T. only, I will post answers in the comment section in order to keep the dialogue open. Peace.

(I'm continuing to welcome anonymous comments - besides you NavyWife. If you're a regular reader, but hesitate to expose your political thoughts, please feel free to leave a comment without your name. Do know that I will be watching though, and will delete anything that's ugly or a personal attack. Let's just be nice though, shall we - I really don't have time for that crap.)

I've run away from home.

Wanna come?

Click to MWOB.

With a kiss and a coat.

Oldest was up at 5:00 a.m., then 5:20, eventually tucked back in at 5:30 with a stern warning of "I love you, but you've got to get some sleep."

Why the excitement?

It's Field Trip Day!!!

He couldn't contain himself at the breakfast table. What would he and best bud bus partner do first - name all the passed cars on the one-hour (!?) bus ride? Rock-paper-scissors? Chat with friends in the seat across the aisle? Or in front and back?

Decisions. Decisions.

"Mama, did you remember I have to have a SACK lunch? No lunch boxes, Mama, remember?"

Yes darling, sack it is.

I wrote a note of love on his napkin and tucked it in the brown bag, then made sure to place his jacket on top.

"Don't forget your jacket babe. It's chilly out."

"OK Mama, I'll remember."

$10 he doesn't. He's "never" cold.

I had to take a moment and mentally snicker at the full-circle moment - it's probably close to 25 years that my mother and I had the same conversation involving a jacket and a field trip to some Native American site in the North Georgia Mountains.

I told her I would take it.

I left it on the back of my chair.

It snowed.

No kidding. Fast and furious flurries.

I did manage to score cutie pie Brent Miller's coat though.

I might be stupid, but I'm no dummy.



10/30 - sorry to leave you guys hanging! Yes, he took his coat. But the weather dude got the forecast wrong and it ended up being much colder than a wind breaker could handle. I should have made him wear the long sleeve shirt. I'm so bad at this whole second-guessing, sothsayer mother thing - just keep swimming, just keep swimming...