We went up to Portland for Thanksgiving this year. We stayed with my wife's brother, his wife, and their new baby (4 months old). Man, is that kid cute. You may think I say that only because I am biased. But, no, he's actually very cute. Despite the fact our laptop is in what I fear to be its final death throes, here is a pic of the little dude, so you can see for yourself that he is, indeed, very cute.
We flew up to Portland Wednesday afternoon and came back Sunday afternoon. I know, I know, the two busiest travel days of the year, we're asking for it, etc. Well, ya know what? Nothing happened. Nothing. Smooth as silk. I've had far worse travel experiences on random days in the year. Wednesday and Sunday? No biggie.
One complaint about the trip: no turkey. Well, we had turkey, but not A turkey. It was just some turkey-ish loaf-like thing instead. Everything else was good (mashies, yams, stuffing, pie, etc) but to not have the bird...well...I dunno. There's just something very traditional about the bird coming out of the oven and everyone oohing and ahhing over it. It doesn't seem like a big thing to be missing, but try it sometime and see if you don't end up feeling empty and forlorn.
I managed to avoid over-consumption on Thursday, partly due to the fact that, due to late-arriving family, we didn't start eating until 5:30 (Thanksgiving dinner should start at 1 to allow proper grazing and napping the rest of the day. Everyone knows this.) Saturday, however, I nearly killed myself with food. At the Laurelwood Public House and Brewery I really did myself in. I showed up so hungry I ate part of my Nephew's car seat on the way over, even though the recent recall notice warned against doing this due to the choking hazard (I'm serious!). We got a beer sampler (6 oz of 9 or 10 different beers) and I could not resist the lunch special. Penne with chicken, prosciutto, sun-dried tomatoes and asparagus in a smoked Gouda cream sauce with little garlic bread toasts. Oh god yes. And a 16 oz stout. I ingested so many calories my distended belly lasted for hours and I didn't get my appetite back until after my workout this (Monday) morning.
The most exciting thing to happen (besides LSU losing to the Razorbacks) was my bro-in-law taking me for a spin on his new motorcycle. It's a Suzuki 650 something-or-other. I'm not really a motorcycle guy, per se ("per se" meaning "I've ridden a motorcycle, by myself, exactly one time") so I'm not sure of all of the details. It's blue. And has aftermarket fairings on it.
Before we set out he told me that, on a particularly remote and straight section of the road around the lake, he would tap my leg which meant "hold on, I'm going to open 'er up." Uh, ok. Perched on the back, during the mere motions of such daredevil stunts as starting from a stop sign or shifting gears, I felt as if only my death grip on the "sissy bar" prevented me from flying off the back. I grew convinced that I would feel the tap on my leg followed shortly by the pavement on the back of my helmet.
Turns out I survived. This, despite the fact that, after the tap, the front tire lifted off the ground for a bit, a happening I was not aware of until it touched back down on the pavement. My brother-in-law is fortunate I was late in noticing it, as he would still be dealing with the hearing loss caused by my screams of terror had I been aware of it as it was happening.
Indeed, I survived and now I am back at work, dealing with the fact that my product is in the final phases of spinning off from the mothership company and becoming it's own little startup. Um, hello, what do you mean I can't use the main office's sink anymore? I have to wash my dishes in the restroom now? But, does this mean I can no longer use the private, one seater bathroom downstairs in the main office? Stock, schmock. I want my private pooper.