You know how Thanksgiving is my very favorite holiday/birthday celebration extravaganza? (Yep, I age on Monday, can't wait. I think it is my 3rd anniversary of my 29th birthday.) You know how happy I always am this weekend and how nothing can make it suck?
I think I have done something to anger the Turkey Gods.
For the first time in 10 years my Thanksgiving weekend has been decidedly UNawesome.
Check it out.
We get some last minute grocery shopping done and Sam and I decide we want a nice vegetarian stir fry for dinner. Yay. Sam rocks at making stir fry so he whips up something awesome using veggies in our fridge.
All is going well, even Buddy is happily eating.
I should have known something was up.
To keep a long story short, Apparently Isabelle decided this would be a fine moment to drive me to the edge of Crazytown and shove me off a cliff with a fit of "I refuse to eat something I usually eat all the time and I'm going to be as nasty and dramatic as possible about it for a good 15 hours".
It was quite the spectacular Battle Royale. Probably wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't been caught off guard by which child was torturing me and which one was eating their food without complaint.
(Someone buy me a truckload of happy pills before the teen years please.)
Totally blew my Thanksgiving Day.
I was so peeved we didn't even do our annual tradition of putting up Christmas decorations. I'm actually still so grumpy that I don't even want to bother with a Christmas tree this year so everything is boxed up in a corner of the basement where it may quite possibly sit through the holiday season.
Maybe if I feel less Grinchy I'll stick some presents next to the boxed up tree. Maybe.
So, Thanksgiving wasn't as fun as I wanted it to be.
Today I decided to find the happy and shake the grumpiness off.
We had a funeral to attend (I'll talk about it later) and that was a sad chunk of the day.
When we got home I was hungry. So hungry. All I could think of was my birthday pumpkin pie and how bad I wanted to eat it.
I opened the front door and was greeted by Ada. You know, the dog who had to be in her kennel because of the unfortunate carpet ripping up incident.
I had left for the funeral first and Sam and the boys had forgotten to kennel her when they left. Whoops.
I was worried, but everything looked okay.
Then I walked into the kitchen.
The damn dog ate both my pumpkin pies. What she didn't eat was mushed all over the counter and floor.
She ate Sam's special plum pie too.
Oh, and a stick of butter.
Needless to say I cried. I also said a lot of grown up words. And I am giving away my dogs. All of them. I can't give away kids who torture me, but I have no problem giving away a dog who eats the best part of Thanksgiving.
So, my favorite holiday meal was ruined by a mouthy preteen.
My favorite post holiday meal tradition didn't happen because I was so upset over aforementioned mouth preteen.
I have no birthday pie because of the crappy dog who learned how to get on the counter and loves pie.
I kinda want to kick someone in the shins so they will feel as rotten as me.
But at least my double ovens worked perfectly. Silver lining.