Thanksgiving was wonderful! It took the better part of an hour to free our vehicle from the snow left behind after the most recent bout of a winter snow storm, but it was a happily uneventful trip after that. Over the river, and through the woods…then more woods, woods again, another river, more woods, a river again, and lastly, more woods — to Grandma’s house we went!
I took these photos through a special photographic filter: the dirty windshield of our moving min-van.
The day was an unqualified success, mostly due to the untiring efforts of my mother-in-law, Judy, and her wonderful husband, Rick. The turkey was tasty, the company was fabulous, and the laughter was plentiful. The day passed all too quickly — but I’m sure we’ll get together again soon. For one thing, they still have my daughter! We left Virginia there for an extended weekend of
getting spoiled rotten one on one time with her grandparents.
The rest of us returned home later that night — we had to be ready to get up the next day to ring the bell for the Salvation Army. Normally I don’t leave the house at all during the madness that is Black Friday shopping in the United States, and you definitely wouldn’t catch me heading for Wal-mart on that day — but that is exactly where I could be found this year. Only a good cause like collecting kettle donations for the S.A. could inspire me to do so. Rest assured — the Salvation Army doesn’t waste any of the money collected on frivolities (like new bells); it all goes to help people who really need the boost. Please give what you can when you see those red kettles — every bit makes a difference.
With Virginia gone, the men of the house outnumbered me — and they used their new majority status to determine Friday’s evening entertainment would be SHARKNADO, a movie my teenage son, describes as “both the worst, and yet also the best, movie I have ever seen.” It features sharks, trapped in tornadoes, falling from the sky, eating pedestrians, swallowing screaming people whole, terrorizing school children, and leaping from storm drains. There is nowhere, NOWHERE, you can be safe from the attack of a flying shark. It is, of course, completely ridiculous, excepting the fact it occurs in Los Angeles, where, let’s face it, anything could happen.
And now, I can add that to my list of things to be thankful for: I’ve never had to fight off a fifteen foot long tiger shark leaping from a funnel cloud while armed with only a baseball bat to defend myself with. Life is good!