We’re prepping for an Ameralian Turkey Day here, at our home, for ALL the family, tomorrow.
CrazyCatLady has, naturally, diva-like and dramatically usurped the role of Center of Attention and is cooking the turkey, stuffing, and candied yams.
Yes, I told her the latter is disgusting and noone really eats them, but she’d already loudly called Wife a “dickhead” when asked if she’d make the gravy too, so I sat and stroked one of the only cats I like over there whilst absently picking tufts of fur off my shirt.
Me and my preggolatious wifeage shopped today, South of the river in the more White Trashish section of town. There’s nothing quite like a change of scenery, and getting back to our WT roots.
Plus, and Yes I’m saying it out loud, I like to compare myself to some of the unfortunates around me and make myself feel better. Fuck it, we all do it, man up and admit it.
By that same token, sometimes I do it simply for the freedom of being “one of them” and let my asscheeks vibrate violently while emitting ducklike noises in the middle of a busy store.
It makes Wife giggle, it makes me smile that oh-so-satisfied-with-yourself-smile and it makes other people uncomfortable and somewhat grossed out. Sweet.
My feet are now propped up and resting, with the promise of a rub or two, after I’ve created, from scratch, two pies.
Crust and all, Pecan is cooling and Pumpkin is waiting to come out.
No Fucking Shit. From Scratch.
I’ve already had two today, but I SOOOOOOOO deserve some serious Sexing right now.
Tell me again why I’m typing this?
P.S. I’m Thankful. So fucking thankful.
I’m writing for the sake of it in here anymore, not for novels, but DAMN, I could go on and on.
I’m thankful, and tell them, every day, for my wonderfully sensitive and capable boy, who may be the most perfect child ever created. For my girlchild, who can be the Naughtiest Shit Ever, but loves like it’s never been done. For the belly resident, who does a disco every time she hears my voice and/or I touch her mum’s belly.
I’m Thankful for all good things and good people. You know who you are.
Go. Hug something and pretend it’s from me. Now.