The Aftermath

My husband's sister and her family made the six and a half hour drive from upstate New York to join us for Thanksgiving. Other family members were also invited, but due to distance or other plans, they declined our invitation to cram around a too-small table in our tiny kitchen/dining room.

That left my family of three, my parents and my sister-in-law and family. Six adults, two teenagers away from their friends, and a nine year old who only wanted to play games on the computer or watch The Justice League.

Until Wednesday when my brother-in-law called to say that his plans had changed was it still possible for he and his partner to come to our dinner.

I wanted to say "Fuck No!" and laugh an evil, demented laugh. But my evil, demented laugh sounds a lot like my normal demented laugh so he probably wouldn't have noticed the difference.

So instead I said, "Absolutely you can still come to dinner!"

We already had nine people and are only able to seat six, so what's two more? And when shopping for turkey I was trying to go smaller but gave up the ghost when all of the turkeys on top in the freezer bin were 20 lbs and I couldn't move them to get to the turkeys on the bottom. Which were most likely also 20 lbs.

Don't judge me. I was tired and I still had a lot of shopping to do. And there were a lot of seniors blocking the aisles, chatting with their friends, and creating bottlenecks in the dairy section.

So anyway, where was I?

The in-laws from upstate arrived Wednesday afternoon. The bro-in-law is only a couple of hours away so he just came for the day. Cooking was underway, snacks were being consumed, the wine was flowing. Sort of. I didn't dare have a glass of wine until all the food was on the table. Which I not only managed ahead of schedule, but everything was hot. Num, num, num. And while I had cooked, three of the guys put their heads together and managed to come up with a table arrangement which enabled everyone to sit in the same room.

It took three or four of them to figure it out, but one has to give them credit.

My happiest moment came when the in-laws took over in the washing up department, which is usually my job. Which I had been doing all day in addition to the cooking. So I gladly relinquished the yellow latex gloves.

And all was going well, until... (duh, duh, duh)... the well went dry and the water pump seized and gasped its last.

And there we were. Eleven people in our tiny house and no running water. No more somebody else washing dishes. No more rinsing of glasses. (Do you have ANY idea how much glassware teenagers go through?) And no more flushing of toilets. *GASP*

Thankfully our neighbors were home and good for a few buckets of toilet flushing water.

Black Friday was indeed "black" for the company who fixed our pump. I would call it Red Friday for us. And the water flows freely once again.

But Thanksgiving night I learned the true meaning of thankful. I am eternally thankful for a constant supply of running water. And I am especially thankful for a family with a sense of humor.

And I'm grateful beyond belief for a hot shower.

Upgrading the Decor

 My absence is unforgivable (to me), but I'm working on a new blog site which I hope to launch soon.


Meanwhile, I'm in the throes of, not so much redecorating, as just decorating. We are hosting family for Thanksgiving who have never visited us before. The college dorm that is my house has been neglected for years and I've tired of life without curtains. So I bought some and hung them.

But first, I had to mount the curtain rods.

I am a goddess with a cordless drill, but mounting the hardware for the rods almost bested me. I say "almost". It took me hours to mount two of the three rods and I had to quit due to an appointment. The appointment required that I be dressed in clothes acceptible to going out in public (and my standards are remarkably low), wearing shoes, hair artfully scrunched, and actually leaving the premises also known as home.

The following day, with the TV tuned to mindless morning television, I tackled the third and final curtain rod. Much to my amazement, it only took 30 minutes. I was so stoked that I went crazy drilling holes and mounting various and sundry hardware in both of my bathrooms. And I'm pleased to inform you, and any future guests, that our toilet paper is finally hanging in an easy to reach place on the wall, rather than hiding out on the back of the toilet.

Muscle memory, and middle-aged dementia, indicates that it's been years since our toilet paper was in a place that didn't require a full body twist to locate.

The cordless drill has done it's job, and now that my sewing machine is out of the shop, it's time to make bathroom curtains. And holiday gifts. And maybe repair a few sad things around the house.

Oh, and I've finally hung the artwork.

Four years after we moved in, it looks like we live here. Uh, no. Scratch that. The clutter in the house leaves no doubt that we live here. But it does look more like a home I'd like to welcome friends and family into.

And once they're here, and I've washed more dishes in two days than I usually wash in a week, I'll be ever so happy to see them leave. I'll swear off having overnight guests ever again.

Until I finally forget how much work it was.