My go-to reaction at early sightings of holiday flare can best be described as scorn. It's not that I dislike Christmas, I'm no scrooge! It's just that I live in a perpetual state of incredulity about the passage of time. Don't try and tell me that it's just me, I don't buy it. The days and weeks and months and years are flying by, someone must have hit the turbo button on the earth's rotation.
I find myself less cranky than usual about the early influx of holiday hijinks this year! Let the world spin at warp speed, I'm ready.
Thanksgiving? I feel almost as much anticipation as I did in the days when mom and dad pulled the station wagon up to St. Thomas the Apostle School festooned with the rooftop luggage rack to haul us off to Brookline, Mass in a whoosh of Necco wafers and Mad Libs.
I've shared our little family Thanksgiving adventures here on the blog since the start: Joshua Tree in 2008, Coronado in 2009, and our Westy's maiden voyage to Cuyamaca in 2010. All have been lovely and lively and really nice distractions from the fact that we're winging it way out here on the Left Coast, where everyone belongs but far too few of my own chosen people have landed.
This year, though? This year we're going back to our roots. We're gearing up for a roadtrip and we'll be sharing the Thanksgiving table with a couple dozen people who are real life blood relatives!
I'm so excited, I could puke.
But I won't.
I've got to stay strong for Christmas.
Spin, earth! Spin!!!