November is the damnedest month

But I am not going to go into it until I am out the other side. THEN, people, will I have a story for you! For now, I am concentrating on maintaining my metaphysical positive zen attitude thing, and to go into gruesome detail (you thought the PUS was gruesome!) would surely be counterproductive.

In the meantime, I still have two questions to answer, and some pictures to reveal. There also seems to be some interest in 1) whether I have actually seen anyone about my festering stomach (answer: Hell yes! Come on, do y'all think a hypochondriac of my fine caliber would just sit on something like this?), and 2) origin of the Thanksgiving quotes. Although I hate for them to lose their mystique, I will oblige.

The first quote was uttered by the Boy during a viewing of "The Polar Express". There's a moment when a little boy is complaining that he found his present, and it was just stupid underwear. The Ex said to the Boy, "Wow, that kid isn't being very grateful, is he?" And they Boy said, "NO! He's being awful!" "You think?" asked the Ex. "You wouldn't do that?" "Oh, no," said the Boy, "I would never, never, NEVER..." [and this is where we all expected him to say "act that way" or "be that rude" or "be ungrateful for what I have"] "...wish for underwear!"

The second quote had to do with the recipe I chose for Thanksgiving dinner. It's a lovely turkey breast stuffed with a spinach/feta combo. The first and only other time I made it was about 17 years ago, when my family came to visit me for Thanksgiving. It was my last year in college, and all my roommates had gone elsewhere for the holidays, so my mother, stepfather, and grandmother came to stay with me. My stepfather, as has been discussed before, was a rather...dysfunctional...man. My mother was in one of the most profound passive-aggressive phases of her life. And my grandmother was suffering from dimentia and was convinced that we were all simply really good impersonations of her family. Oh! It was a holiday to remember, I'll tell you what. And of course, being the college girl and not at all the masterful (ahem) chef I have become since, I had never dealt with a turkey breast before and had not properly prepared for the recipe, which calls for the breast to be flattened and then rolled. So I found myself in the kitchen with a not-quite-thawed turkey breast and nothing with which to flatten it save a hammer; a stressed-out mother, a senile grandmother who kept asking me who the heck I was, and my stepfather (issues unsaid); and NO CODEINE. I think this puts the second quote in perspective for you.

Last but not least, the third quote was the Girl's attempt to discuss something that happened before she was born...back when she was in utero, when she was "so so little, I was just a yoni!"

And FINALLY, the lovely Krupskaya, chez Edit Barn, asks:
What would be your most perfect ideal day with the kids? And the most perfect ideal day without the kids?

Hmmmm. I think the most perfect day with the kids would simply be a day in which none of our issues came to bite us in the collective ass. One during which the Girl didn't throw a fit, I didn't get stressed out, the Boy didn't get manic, and we all really just appreciated each other and managed to be kind to each other and have fun and enjoy everything around us. A calm day, I guess I'm asking for. We have lots of fun around here, but calm is something we don't get much of. And oh, I do miss the calm now and then. Not that I'd trade these children for a world of calm, but since we're talking Fantasy World here...

And without them? Heck. I guess I would love to just spend a day doing nothing but lovely relaxing selfish things, like watching movies and drinking coffee and wine and getting massages and pedicures and manicures and so forth. Oh, and since we are, as has been mentioned, in Fantasy World, all those things would be performed by an available, functional Hugh Jackman look-alike, who would also (close your eyes, children) fuck my brains out.

Weren't expecting that part? Oh, how you disappoint me.