Dear Mother -- The idea of having 20 people for Thanksgiving is a lovely one. However, the reason why I have reserved my enthusiasm is that I know that I will be expected to do a bunch of shit to help. Now, as a concept, the idea of helping is not a problem. But, if you are planning this shit, and just assuming that I'm going to act as the hired help, that dawg won't hunt.

'that dawg won't hunt' bonus points for using this phrase.

I have a pair of nine west boots from...at least 10 years ago? I think? I don't remember if they're the original pair I bought in college or a replacement pair. But quality can change over time, clearly.

Vortex, you do your mother an injustice. You know you'll end up doing the planning too.

Warm is the thing it is not, here in Minnesota today. Psychiatrist in the hospital strongly recommended that I attend Overeaters Anonymous, had the social worker search the internet for more information, and for time/location of nearest meeting. And I promised to go to at least a few meetings, in spite of the fact that I am firmly in the denial phase of food addiction. Luckily, the nearest meeting is held in a building which is approximately three blocks down and one block over. Since Daniel's truck was parked behind my car, we decided it would be perfectly reasonable for him to drop me off in his nice, remote-start, warmed up truck, while he ran some errands. It's 10 degrees out. That's Farenheit, not Celcius. You see where this is going, don't you?

Yeah, I hop out of the truck, he says, "You have your cell phone, right?" Which I do. I think he has his, don't know for sure, it went right to voicemail. The location is in the downtown area of this small town, main-ish street, lined with Norman Rockwell rural mid-American store front buildings with the appartments upstairs. He drives off as I walk across the street. Door's locked. Note on the door about the times and rooms of various AA meetings, no mention of OA. It's five minutes before the hour. If the people with the keys aren't there yet, when the hell are they going to arrive? Don't know, don't care. Ain't standing around in ten fucking degrees to find out. Started walking home, stopped at the coffee shop, grabbed a mocha, and here I am.

I hope Daniel either turns his phone on and retrieves his voicemail, or stops home before he tries to pick me up, or the poor man is going to be very worried about me.

If I get another throat infection from being out in the cold that long, I'm forwarding the $180 bill to the psychiatrist.

Vortex, you do your mother an injustice. You know you'll end up doing the planning too.

Sadly, I'm pretty sure Brenda is right.

Deena!

Vortex, you do your mother an injustice. You know you'll end up doing the planning too.

Har. No, she's too much of a control freak. She just wants to order people around for stupid shit. Like, when she was having people over for dinner and I got there a little bit early, and she had me vaccuuming the guest room. Why, no, no one was staying the guest room, or had been in there for a week.

that's clearly why it needed to be vacuumed.

eta: correcting punctuation. I might have been asking a caller a question while typing.

All right, y'all, I'm going to go all proud mama for a moment:

Nate was just named student editor of his school newspaper! Remember, this is the kid, who less than two years ago had Ds & Fs and teachers just didn't give a shit because they'd already written him off. (In sixth grade-- jeebus H, do we ever need Buffista Academy.)

Now? Straight As on his last report card and student editor. I could just BUST.

Oh, and he told me the staff is going to get Fedoras and tuck old school PRESS signs into the band.