Thanksgiving 2013

Pit Stop - The View from the Cockpit

Wednesday dawned with the rain being blasted against the side of Chez Sarge by a wind of at least 25 mph. This didn't bode well for a 155 mile trip up north to visit the ancestral hunting grounds of my clan. I also had to spend the morning at work, couldn't take the entire day off. C'est la vie!

On the walk from my car to my office, I got soaking wet.

Upon leaving work four hours later, dried out by now, on the walk from my office to my car.

I got soaking wet.

Got home, loaded the car (got even wetter) and eventually hit the road.

That photo above was taken in the parking lot of a McDonald's off Route 146 near Uxbridge, Massachusetts. The Missus Herself was inside getting food, I sat in the car, watching the rain.

Oh, and taking random photos from the cockpit. Avec mon téléphone portable.

Pardon my French, I just finished watching a movie in French on NetFlix. L'Ennemi Intime for those of you with enquiring minds. A film about the French war in Algeria. An excellent film.

But I digress.

We managed to make it up to New Hampshire, the trip was a little longer than normal. As the weather was not very cooperative. Also my windshield wiper blades decided that this particular time would be an excellent time to wear out.

I watched my windshield wipers go from efficient and silent to smearing and thumping.

Oh joy.

75 miles of screech, thump, screech, thump...

Perhaps I exaggerate. The Missus Herself was heard to remark "What noise?"

Sigh...

But we got there safe and sound.

My brother, The Musician, drove up from the environs of Boston Thanksgiving morning. He wanted to avoid the weather.

Genious. Wimp.

So we all trooped over to The Olde Vermonter's abode and there gave thanks for all the bounty of the year which even now is passing rapidly. December is here.

We broke bread together, drank together and even sang a tune or two. But once my brother's dogs began howling, Mrs Olde Vermonter asked me to stop singing. But she was nice about it.

"Don't quit your day job."

Heh. I won't.

We did watch football, a bit half-heartedly I must confess. But we were all talking and telling tall tales and such.

I do believe a good time was had by all. And I made a new friend!

Mrs Olde Vermonter has acquired a "rescue dog", I think that's the term du jour. She's a little thing who apparently is half Chihuahua and half "Min-Pin", miniature Doberman Pinscher I believe is what that means. She looks pretty much all Chihuahua.

Sweet disposition, she can also walk a yard or so on her hind legs. My nephew says that she reminds him of the smoking aliens in Men In Black. While I didn't have to Google that, you might.

Yup, these guys...

I don't really see the resemblance. Perhaps it's when she walks on her hind legs?

Anyway, she and I got along just fine. Daisy would jump up on the couch, cuddle up to me and rest her wee head on my leg from time to time. She likes me. Perhaps some might see that as a character flaw.

I don't...

So Thanksgiving was most enjoyable. The kids and grandkids had their own gathering out in California. Near Lemoore. Apparently they all had fun as well.

From that gathering there is a photo of my oldest granddaughter, Little Bit, smiling at the camera with actual reindeer in the background.

Yes, I said reindeer.

Apparently moments after the photo was taken, The WSO's daughter, my sweet little granddaughter, had a meltdown of epic proportions according to The WSO.

Somehow I picture the scene in Downfall where Hitler learns that Steiner won't be coming to the rescue. Now that was an epic meltdown.

I'm sure Little Bit's meltdown wasn't that bad.

Hhmm, though I do recall her going ballistic on a kiddie train ride once. The girl does have a temper. So "epic" might be a good description after all.

At any rate, we had a good time up in Vermont and nobody had any meltdowns. Of course, there were also no three year olds there.

Stop looking at me like that. I act like a twelve year old. Not a three year old.

Excuse me, I'm going to go have an epic meltdown.