Lapland, Orphans, and Thanksgiving...

With the prospect of eating three Thanksgiving meals tomorrow, I'm forced to reflect on how this came into being.  Best I can figure, its all because of one word-- Inbreeding.  Where I'm from, it is highly regarded as truth that everyone born east of I-95 Highway is... oh how should I put this?... Is his own grandpa. 

Now this little "truth" doesn't bother me much.  My family tree branches off quite nicely, if I do say so myself and if my forefathers were relatives, there isn't much evidence to prove it.  Although, I do recall back in high school a teacher making us outline our family tree as part of a project.  A few of my classmates/neighbors ended up with a stump instead of a nice full tree.  But I digress... it seems to me that the whole problem with tomorrow's meals lies with inbreeding.

It's my own fault.  I married a boy from just around the corner.  My father always joked that a true "redneck" finds love by looking out their front door.  I found my love on a tractor one summer while standing up to my eyeballs in a tobacco field... and even though his last name overlaps some of my people's last names, I have never once saw any of his kin at any of my family reunions.  I don't think that quiet makes me a redneck or inbreed.  Maybe my future children, however.

My dear friend, Olivia, when we were in college called me, "Sweet Home Alabama" because I was, according to her, just like the character Reese Witherspoon played in that movie.  I beg to differ though-- I've never lived a fabulous life in New York, my father-- although he serves on the local historic association board- does not reenact the Civil War, and my parents live in a very respectable two story brick home and are the biggest Democrats you'll ever meet.  That being said, I do talk slow and my address does fall in the "east of 95" district.

Regardless, tomorrow the Hubster and I will be eating at 12 o'clock, 1 o'clock and thankfully, 5:30pm instead of 3 o'clock as my uncle had intended.

Now how does this, eating three times, relate to inbreeding?  Well, looking back on it, I should have married someone from far away.  Like someone from Lapland.  I don't think those from the "land of the midnight Sun" even celebrate Thanksgiving-- probably because there is little to be thankful about when it is daylight at 2:00am .  But if I had of married someone from far away I'd, at best be eating two big meals instead of three.  When you live 'east of 95' and you marry someone from that same region, you don't pick who you eat with-- you just cram it into one big day.

My grandfather, who was always full of infinite wisdom said this:  "Always marry an orphan."  And after being married for a little over three years, I get it what he is saying.  Families make life very difficult, even when they don't mean to.  Do you think that my mother-in-law is purposely planning her Thanksgiving celebration just an hour after my mother's?  No.  At least I hope not. It's just how she's always done it and so she isn't about to change a whole routine just to make life easier for me and her son (even though that would be greatly appreciated). 

Next year my mother has already decided to move her celebration to the Wednesday night before Thanksgiving.  It's a rather smart idea because this way she's getting to be the first of the many marathon meals, as my sister will be married this time next year to another local boy who isn't an orphan either.

Luckily, Thanksgiving night is all ours... the Hubster and I plan to watch a little movie we love called "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation" and get ready for putting out the Christmas Decorations.

Happy Thanksgiving Y'all!

Scences from Charleston, South Carolina: October 29th, 2010

This pink hotel-- the Mills House-- is where we stayed while in Charleston.  It was recommended by a friend and Southern Living Magazine and I must say the service was awesome.

This last picture may take some explaining... it is an antique tin ceiling tile that the Hubster purchased for me in at the market in Charleston.  It was my birthday present and I intend to hang it on my living room wall in our new house.  It is over 100 years old and it is just fabulous.  Yes, we looked like idiots carrying the thing back to our hotel room, but we did get some positive comments from the people that stopped to stare. 

MIA...

So I've been on a bit of a blogging vacation-- well, actually I've just been too bogged down with other things to steal a few moments to record my thoughts.  Since my last post I've done a few things that I wasn't really expecting to do.

First of all, we did end up in Charleston over my birthday this past weekend.  It was fabulous.  I'll post pictures later, I only made a few, but as the Hubster and I rode in a carriage listening to a tour guide I kept thinking to myself, "I'm in love with this place!"  It was that sort of town.

I'm also very excited about the tin ceiling tile that the Hubster bought for me from Charleston-- its over 100 years old and I can't wait to have it hang in my new house!  Again, I'll post pictures of it, but not now.

Secondly, the house stuff is sort of coming along.  After giving the go ahead to a contractor, the Hubster's first cousin, who also is a house builder, gave us an offer we couldn't refuse and it looks like the cousin is going to get the job.  I personally feel much better about this because the cousin is as anal and detail oriented as I am.  We are supposedly meeting with the bank this week and then we'll start pulling permits.

Finally, I cut my hair.  I didn't mean to.  I just went in for a trim and some much needed highlights and the next thing I knew I was telling my stylist to just cut it own up!  The Hubster loves it and so says everyone else, yet I'm still on the fence.  I miss my hair but at least it will grow back! 

I hope to get back in the habit of blogging... there's plenty to rant about.  But for now, this will do.  I've got to go take a prenatal vitamin or something similar to entice my hair to grow, grow, grow!