Because as it turns out, I am serving ham this Thanksgiving. I am pretty excited about this because it involves a lack of turkey, a particular meat I do not like to eat ever since a childhood of watching my mother eat boiled gizzards. Intestines are gross.
Regardless, next week is going to be fun. (Really, it's only a week from now that I have to start cooking/baking/etc.)
For example, 5 year old twins are staying at my house for three whole days. I can't wait to see how my cat will react to that. Actually, I think I know. He will hiss at them and then go hide in the closet.
We are going to go swimming and sailing.
Probably a "time-out" zone will have to be established at some point, because, as many of you know, little boys do not always behave. Thus, they need a little time and space to think about just what they've done. (To be honest, I often feel the same way about myself.)
Ah, but to revisit the small infractions of childhood. I wish I could go back in time and chart the trajectory of stealing cookies from the cookie jar to filching warm Bartles & James wine coolers from my dad's basement stash in order to see exactly what went wrong.
Actually, I drank a lot of warm, cheap beer too. Really, I should have insisted on quality. Nothing but the best. Because I'm worth it. Thank you.
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