...and the turkey is all gone! The long Thanksgiving weekend didn’t seem so long. In fact, it seemed to speed by quite fast as most long weekends have a habit of doing.
Our dinner was a rousing success. We ate in the dining room in the lovely ambiance of picture-less Weaver’s Cloth colored walls. (Martha, where are you??) Luckily H had installed a dimmer switch so with the help of candles, it merely looked like a cozy intimate setting as opposed to a very plain, undecorated room. As if on cue, my parents popped over (“We’ll be out of there in a jiffy so you can prepare your meal!”) and stayed for several hours even as I was putting the final touches on some snacks for our dining guests. My dad helped his hungry self as I was slicing and arranging so by the time the guests arrived, the snacks looked a bit snacked-on but that’s ok. It’s the holidays after all. My NASCAR brother was also home and arrived in a blaze of race-season-ending glory. He is in the process of taking a job with another race team so he was full of stories and name-dropping (“yeah, the other night at dinner with Paul Newman…” etc.) Hard to believe I used to change that kid’s diapers.
Friday was interesting. I went to a horse auction in Shipshewana Indiana. Shipshewana is known for its Amish population so usually there are lots of horses and buggies around. I guess the auction is where many of the Amish buy their horses because the place was packed. A friend I was with decided she was going to pick up an Amish guy so she could get a ride in a buggy…so she was flirting the entire time with every man in blue cotton pants and suspenders. She also kept trying to speak Amish-ly by saying “thee” and “thy”. At one point, she said to me, “Get thee over to the concession stand to get thy friend a Coke.” She didn’t pick up any guys, imagine that.
On Saturday I rode my own horse prospect, Whiskey…whose name is actually Risky but I like Whiskey better because Risky makes him sound dangerous and, well, I am a chicken so why even go there. In a scene much like Cinderella, I found that my saddle fits him to a T! I am happy to say all went well and I walked and trotted without too much trepidation. YEA! This one could be a keeper…stay tuned.
One quick note, today is Missy’s birthday. You know, my bionic million dollar poodle with the magically cured eyes. She is 3 years old this day. Happy Birthday Missy! I’d give you a card with some money or a gift but I can’t afford it since your surgeries just about put us in the poorhouse. Instead, we’ll do some serious MilkBones tonight! :)