26 Days & Counting!

Thanksgiving was absolutely stupendous! A number of old friends flew in from Chicago to stay with us. Our house was wall-to-wall company and I was reminded why most of our sofas are also pull-out beds. Between those and some sleeping bags, we managed to sleep 15 of us. We even had a "pup" tent in the living room for 8-year old Patrick, a special young friend of ours.

Feeding that many people for 5 days wasn't as horrendous as I thought it might be. I had cooked and baked a lot before they got there and everyone pitched in. Cleaning up after that crowd was an absolute snap. First, I used paper plates whenever it wouldn't look like we wouldn't be considered couthless; then the pups did a "pre-wash" before I tossed dishes into the dishwasher. Err... actually "tossed" a few dishes... Now I have to find that online china shop that carries old dish patterns from the dark ages (when His Holiness was a boy) so I can replace them. Groan... mumble... whine... complain.

On the up side, there were lots of chocolates and pies and cakes and sweet crepes and other goodies. On the down side, some of these people actually EAT green vegetables! I know, I know. Shocked me, too. At first, I was momentarily stunned; later, I just pretended I was having a Halloween moment every time someone waved a piece of broccoli in my direction. (Some guests truly lack couth.) Cowboy suggested (in front of EVERYBODY) that I have a serving of green things...

I'm not crazy about green beans, which my neighbor brought over. "Green bean casserole is traditional for Thanksgiving, Sar," she smiled sweetly as she handed it over.

"Good Lord!" I exclaimed, appalled that the little green devils might crawl out of the platter and jump on my plate, then caught my husband's arched brow aimed directly at me. Tsk.

"And look!" she pointed. "I also brought green peas and pearl onions so you'd have a variety."

"You are an absolute saint," I smiled at the generous witch... err... lady and pictured Saint Joan de Arc. Didn't she get burned at the stake prior to becoming a saint? One can only hope...

Cowboy strongly suggested I take a bite of a couple of green things. It was a direct order and I didn't want to disappoint him in front of so many guests so I complied. I ate 2 green peas.

We had 20 guests for Thanksgiving dinner and everyone of them ATE like there was no tomorrow. I roasted 4 turkeys and 2 honey baked hams and there weren't any leftovers. I should mention that Bull, the Chrysler Building-sized Marine, was at my table and I roasted turkey # 4 just for him. He ate non-stop most of the day. When I asked him if he wanted mashed potatoes and offered the punch bowl sized serving dish... he took the WHOLE thing! I wonder what it costs the U.S. Marine Corps to feed this guy? On a sweet note: Since returning from Afghanistan, he's slowly mending, both physically and emotionally and it fills my heart to hear him laugh again. Three other marines from Bull's unit joined us for the day and so did my 97-year old neighbor, Peeper Patterson. His daughter is visiting from Kansas and she came along, too. She thinks I'm a bad influence on her father... just because I occasionally dance naked outdoors to celebrate the full moon. Tsk. I wonder if that's why she always makes the sign of the cross before she enters my house... double tsk.

Cowboy and others were responsible for each breakfast and we feasted on his various pancakes and waffle concoctions, all of which were wonderful. Glory made Dim Sum for one of our lunches - swoon - and Vi, who could live in a house without a kitchen - made her infamous hot cocoa and "special tea." Infamous because if you drink too much of either, you'll be 3 sheets to the wind in no time. We made sure the younger guests got real hot cocoa. Max kept a 48-cup coffee urn filled with chicory coffee each day which pleased me no end since I'm addicted to it.

"How much of this coffee have you drunk, imp?" Cowboy asked out of the blue as I refilled my mug for the upteenth time.

"Hmmm..." I hummed. That's a loaded question. I haven't "drunk" any... I just sort of take a few sips here and there. Okay, nonstop sips, but sips nonetheless.

"Well?" he demanded, his grizzly paw... err... excessively large hand at my waist squeezing a little.

Tsk.

"She be thinkin," Max chuckled. "When she lived with us, she never did like to answer that question. Best you just let her have this bit of fun. Time to be good again when we go back home."

"I don't want her drinking so much caffeine," the occasionally anal retentive heathen said.

"Man, you got a death wish?" Max snorted. "This be the woman that makes the food you eat! Let it be and live another 50 years!"

I thought that was great advice and poured a fresh hot cup of chicory coffee and sashayed out of the room. With any luck, His Holiness' memory will fade by the time the holiday weekend is over.

Glory, Max and Vi, and Cowboy and I went shopping before my other out-of-town guests arrived. I kept the ladies busy while Max picked out a few things and paid for them. Then Cowboy kept Max distracted while the ladies selected things for him. Max insisted I accompany him to the food court while Glory and Vi and Cowboy disappeared, then they demanded that Cowboy sit with them while they rested and Max and I made ourselves scarce. It was pure slapstick - figuring out who was doing what with whom as we made some Christmas selections for those we loved.

When our friends, Alli and Paul arrived with their 4 boys, we did it all over again but in greater numbers. I'm super organized so I had a list of who was doing what and with whom while we shopped. We strayed from the planned schedule and kept bumping into each other, but had so much fun that we're going to laugh about this again and again. All the out-of-town gifts were shipped directly from the stores so Cowboy and Paul and Max didn't have a lot to carry home...

Cowboy mentioned that I might be close to maxing out my credit card so he suggested I use his. Ut-oh... I haven't told him that I *was* using his credit card... err... both of his credit cards. Ahhhh well, as Max says: "Life be short and you best be 'preciatin it for all it be worth." I hope that theory applies to credit cards.

And I sincerely hope your holiday was filled with lots of good things. Time to start Christmas preparations.

~Sar~

P.S. 26 days till ol St. Nick tries to climb down my chimney. Eight-year old Patrick said we should leave a note on the top of the chimney to tell Santa to use the front door.

"Why is that?" Cowboy asked.

"'Cause Sar said if he comes down the chimney and there's a fire, he's gonna burn his ass."

"SAR!"

Sheesh! That child repeats EVERYTHING he hears!

P.P.S. I was extraordinarily good the whole time we had company. It just about killed me!

Tsk!

As usual, I'm doing too many things.

Halloween was great fun. Thankfully it's over. I don't think I could have eaten one more Tootsie Roll. When I finally came down from that sugar high, I slept like a log. Unfortunately, I overslept and was late for an appointment.

Naturally, I whipped out of the house in record time, foregoing breakfast and sped down the highway to my appointment. That evening, His Holiness mentioned that I left the house with barely a kiss on the cheek so he knew I was in a hurry.

"Were you speeding?"

Speeding? Hmmm.... uh... um... errrr... this might be one of those "semantic" moments. I, personally, wasn't speeding. I was sitting... the car I was in was sort of going fast but that's what cars do, right? I mean, it's like a ship in port, I explained to the man who can go dumb at the most inopportune moments.

"Ships are safe in port but that's not why ships were built."

SWAT!

Tsk.

"Are you taking the leftover Halloween candy to the food bank?"

We have leftover candy?

"Sure."

"I don't want you eating all that junk, Sar."

Tsk.

"I like candy."

SWAT!

Tsk.

"Don't you have to go do "admiral" things?"

SWAT!

Double tsk!

Moving right along... the two Rotts we're fostering from Hurricane Katrina are doing nicely. Clyde had a bad habit of nipping my butt when I told him "no." I made noises about the glue factory... He doesn't do that any more. Bonnie, on the other hand, remains a slut. Every time one of the other male Rotts looks at her, she quickly turns into a Parisian courtesan celebrating Bastille Day. Regardless, both have learned manners; they passed their obedience trials for on and off lead.

I proudly told His Holiness of their progress. He had the gall to say I wasn't as proficient "off lead."

Tsk.

We have company arriving from Chicago - Max and Vi and Glory, who I've written about. I've cooked and baked and the house is spic 'n span. I haven't seen them in almost three years and am really excited they're going to stay for a couple of weeks. I told Cowboy he better not be thinking about spanking me when they get here. The wretch said he wouldn't be thinking... he'd be doing and followed that statement with a demonstration.

SWAT!

Tsk.

We were at the airport early. Our guests were due in at 11 p.m. but their plane was late, not arriving until just after midnight. By the time we hugged and kissed, found their luggage, drove home and finished hugging and kissing, it was close to 3 a.m. I was pooped. We all slept in and Cowboy made his famous cream cheese waffles for breakfast. Glory supervised; she loves giving orders to an admiral and mixed a little brandy with the ice cream. Then she fried it and plopped a huge dollop onto each waffle. Delish!

We also had chicory coffee which Max made cause no one makes it as good as he does. He still teases me about how much of it I drink. I really like it and it's even more decadent when you drop chunks of white chocolate in it.

Vi wanted breakfast in bed but Max insisted she eat with us so he made her comfortable on the couch and served her there. Then he insisted that Glory put her feet up and served her as well. Cowboy and I filled our plates and the five of us stopped talking long enough to stuff ourselves.

The cats - DomTom and Miss Emmy - decided that Max was their new best friend; he wasn't pleased. BullyBoy, the Bull Mastiff, sat on the floor next to Vi who isn't crazy about dogs, but he won her over with his adoration. I didn't have the heart to tell her the dog was really interested in her ice cream waffle.

SweetPea, the Rottweiler, stayed in the kitchen and gobbled up as many waffles as he could steal. By the time I discovered this lapse in behavior, he was already looped on the brandied ice cream.

I, of course, was the epitome of goodness. Cowboy wondered - out loud - how long that was going to last. Would you believe everybody laughed? Tsk.

~Sar~