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Our Thanksgiving dinner was amazing, even if we did forget a green salad. But as Ben said, “It’s just filler. Why waste stomach room on salad?” The entire day was so much fun, even the parts where I learned stuff from Arlo… like how to make gravy. Ben and I made the mashed potatoes, Mormon style–which means lots and lots of fatty ingredients and a Book of Mormon on the kitchen counter for luck.Unfortunately, AK ended up out of the country on a business trip so he wasn’t able to be there in person, but thanks to Skype video he was able to supervise our activities. He didn’t have a lot of faith in our kitchen skills and made sure we knew where the fire extinguisher was at all times. No, seriously.Mrs. AK, however, didn’t need any supervision. Her turkey was perfect! Can’t wait until next year!

I have so much to be thankful this year…

I’m thankful I have loving and loyal friends who are family to me. Especially Mrs. AK, who despite being British, planned an all-American Thanksgiving feast complete with a child’s place setting for Ben.Speaking of family, even though my parents decided to spend the holiday amongst drug dealers and elderly vacationers, I’m extremely thankful I have both a mom and a dad. I’m also thankful I have such cool brothers, a sister-in-law that I adore, and the most amazing niece and nephew in the entire world.

I could on, but I won’t. There’s cooking to be done. Granted I’ll just be watching, but watch I shall! Obviously I’ll be paying closer attention to our Canadian friend’s ass, than I will any food preparation, but have complete faith he won’t poison me. I think.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!!!

Last month I told Ben I’d kill for a Volvo. Somehow the gods of fate got this confused and thought I said I wanted to be killed by a Volvo. Easy mistake.

On my way home from the country today I encountered a nasty accident on the freeway. One of those large trucks transporting cars rolled. I’m not sure how it happened, i was too busy singing along to the radio to notice that part. Wrecked cars were everywhere, but luckily I was able to avoid being hit by a speeding blue Volvo.

When everyone started getting out of their cars I called Ben. I was busy recounting the story to him when a man motioned for me to get out of my car–I hung up and got out. “Hey, I saw you on the phone, how long until the police arrive?” “Umm, I didn’t call 911. I called my brother. Dispatch operators hear this stuff all the time, and I thought he would be more impressed by the story.” He glared and me and walked away without saying a word.  Really, it’s no wonder people hate me.