Our burning hearts

Okay, first things first: I've been meaning to establish that from this point forward, I shall be referring to my beloved using the acronym SD since, well, they're his initials -- originality is my forte -- and since abbreviating, from what I've read, seems to be proper blog etiquette when referring to spouses, significant others, favorite pets, etc., and since I would never dream of being improper...ahem...SD it is.

Now that we have that out of the way, isn't everyone just doubled over in a post-poultry and stuffing-induced comatose state? I am, but currently drinking a glass of wine to see if I can counteract the effects of an imbalanced bloodsugar headache and a mean rumbling in the tum-tum due to, uh, TOO MUCH FOOD. And, uhm, god, heartburn sucks. Seriously, TUMS should be shelved next to the turkey basters for the month of November.

We actually had a smashing bird day. SD's mom, sister, and niece drove in from Louisiana to spend the holiday with us. We ended up cooking all day Wednesday, eating Thanksgiving dinner Wednesday night, and re-heating leftovers today for lunch, which was, in a word, bliss. I'm going to go out on a limb here and suggest that everyone just consider celebrating every holiday the day before it's actually supposed to happen. Lots less pressure involved and then you can gloat about sitting on your big fat turkey butt and watching the Macy's parade while you have (extremely satisfying) visions of everyone else seething and mumbling profanities while contemplating chucking the turkey (and maybe an annoying relative) off the Mayflower.

So, in case you hadn't guessed, I like to reflect on things. And in the spirit of reflection and turkey, I was thinking about what I was doing on the last Thursday in November last year. For starters, I was carrying a little turkey in my overstuffed belly, and I was walking the streets of New York City and HURTING, tremendously, while waiting for air balloons to make their way amidst the crowds and telephone poles. We (okay, mainly SD) were also frantically trying to finish renovations on our new house before the arrival of our baby bird. Wow, can we say paint roller and polyurethane without excessive twitching? I don't think so. And, now, as I sit here, I realize just how quickly balloons and time drift because the weight pressing upon my feet has since been delivered and is in the world, asserting himself, and reminding us that time is impatient no matter how hard we try to calm it. And, oh, did I mention, we're in a completely different house and part of the country?

Tomorrow we're going to attempt to thrust ourselves into the next holiday by getting a Christmas tree. More challenging than just getting it, however, will be finding the perfect spot for it -- one that will be safe from wandering hands and feet and the havoc that all children under one year of age are bound to wreak upon poor, unsuspecting evergreens. Dominion over nature -- we all dream of achieving it; only the youngest among us can achieve it. God save the blown-glass ornaments.