I've spent the last several years being invited to extended family's or good friends' homes for holidays as the single friend. Even after Erik and I married, we were still pitied, I guess, and taken under the wing of loved ones. Since Baby Brother moved in, it feels more like family around here. So this year, we cooked Thanksgiving Dinner.

Got up at the Buttcrack o' Dawn, threw the bird in the oven, resolved that the Next House (this house is really cute, but the first house always shows you what to look for in the Next House) will have two ovens. Drank one pot of tea while Erik stuffed celery.

Had a LOVELY dinner, really perfect. It could not have gone any better, and I have a wonderful husband. I have so much to be thankful for. I am thankful for my family, my precious friends, my livelihood, my home, the sunshine, another day in Paradise...

At the suggestion of my company's owner, we each made some phone calls this Thanksgiving to try to patch up some holes in our own hearts. We talked about it a lot beforehand, and that's just what you do on the holidays. Remember why you love people, focus on the positive and look to a New Year without all of the Old Nonsense.

And today, I saw the beginnings of the holiday wishes on tv from troops overseas. I do not do well with those.

Also, I seem to have a cold, so I'm hereby soliciting for turkey soup recipes.

Everybody I know is having a baby THIS YEAR. Everyone. Even people I only know by second degree. I have gotten a puppy. Now, let's just make it real clear here that my biological clock is a quiet, digital one. I love everyone else's babies. And I know that that is not the right choice for me.

Look at my dog. She doesn't make a lot of noise, ever, and she came to us housebroken.

She does this every time we leave the house. She runs to the window, exhibiting this forlorn gaze as if to lay on a guilt trip. Look at that face. Works, huh?

"I count myself in nothing so happy, as remem'bring my good friends."
-Shakespeare

Preserve your old friendships. These are the folks that know who you are, know where you've been, will pray for you when your husband is interviewing for a new jobby job. They know the hair mistakes you've made, they remember the man mistakes you've made, and they're not afraid to tell you not to make them again.

Real, old friends do not require full sentences during conversation.

"Remember that time we...?"

In some cases, you could point to a sweatshirt or make a face, and the whole conversation is already had already. Let's go grab lunch.

It's important to maintain those kinds of relationships, for old friends will hook you up with Schlitterbahn and concert tickets. Today, I really needed a phone call out of the blue, and Heather provided that. Heather, do you think it was the fen-phen in college?

Desert camouflage makes me tear up. And it's been like that for fifteen years. Today, my team left work early to see a movie for teambuilding. It's the Desert Storm Marine movie.

And then, I was forty-five minutes early for a gathering at a restaurant for cranberry margaritas. And I'd been instructed to get a table for ten. Five minutes in, I ordered an appetizer. No, really, I've got at least nine friends coming. And I sat there, all by my lonesome in an empty restaurant, humming along with Bon Jovi on the Muzak overhead and text messaged everyone I know while waiting for people to show up. Thank God for Kristen and Alia getting there when they did.

And I will love you, baby, Always... and I'll be there, forever and a day...And I know when I die, you'll be on my mind, and I'll love you Always...

And I know that yourself or someone like you could lecture me about the dangers of medication and tequila, and singing out loud, but this is where I will simply retort that life is SHORT. I wasn't driving. It's not like this is something I do every weekend.

We ended up having to add tables and chairs to our group. I could have stayed longer, except for the fact that I began telling too many stories, and at least I recognize this about myself. When the people at neighboring tables lean in to hear the one about the Weekend in Memphis, it is time to GO.

Cheer up, sleepy Jean...oh, what can it mean
To a daydream believer and a Homecoming Queen?

His name was Dotun. I do not remember from whence he came to study at NDSU, but he was in my Blue Key National Honor Society chapter. I didn't spend as much time with that group as I would have liked. I miss them so much. I shouldn't have worked so much in college. Heck, I was gonna have student loans anyway.

Dotun nominated me for Homecoming Queen one year. And that meant sosoSO much to me, sitting across that room at that meeting.

I have pictures of him. I cannot remember his home country in Africa or his last name. But that song is on a current television commercial and just zipped me back to that nomination. Thanks.

I have this little canister attached to my keychain. It makes my keys a bit hard to fit into my purse.

It was given to me about four years ago by my Air Force buddy Brian, and I asked, "What is this? Pepper spray? Mace?"

"Better," came the reply.

So I was thinking this morning, perhaps I should get rid of this. I mean, it's four years old, I don't live downtown anymore, and I really have no need for government-issue self-defense spray, that's probably a lethal weapon.

But then, why would I be concerned about its age? What, like if someone attacks me on an off night when I happen to be by myself somewhere, I need to be worried about the freshness of that which I spray directly into their eyes and paralyze their respiratory system while I get away? Maybe I'll buy a bigger handbag.

My conscious mind knows I'm not, I just...feel like I am.

Oh, what a swirl of autumnally majestic leaves will stir up in me.

Today is one of those graysky mornings, and there is actually some fall color around here, believe it or not. I feel like I am a college student again.

Barbie called me a little while ago to tell me she had a healthy baby boy Thursday morning. I am so excited for her, and there is no one around to tell!

So, I called home to tell Mom about Barbie and Andrew James, and it will be announced at the United Methodist Church during services tomorrow morning.

She and I had been trying to come up with the cause of brain tumors, whether it's plugging your nose when you sneeze (which she taught me in first grade I think) or Coal Creek Station and the coal mine outside town - if that's the case, they owe us each a cool million. But then too, we were the only two Methodists in our class. Nobody knows. Some oysters can make a pearl.

We saw a high school play last night. I haven't seen a high school play since.... gosh, I don't think since I was in one. And it was a dinner theatre production, so the food was (we think) prepared by the Home Ec. class, and it was a cheap night of entertainment.

We contributed to the theatre scholarship, and the female lead (whom we went to see in the first place, the daughter of our chaplain) was great. I hope she does many more.

Bitchiness. I just hate that. And it's not just women.

Maya Angelou says, when someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.

Natasha and Cleopatra, I know this is what you've been trying to get through my thick skull. I understand. I'm at that place, and I just want you both to know.

I cannot tolerate when one person feels superior enough to someone else, that they can degrade that person publicly, or privately, unwarranted. I cannot handle that. I don't like people being picked on.

If you happen to witness something ridiculous like this go down, it is your responsibility as that person's teammate on this planet to stand up for them, and promptly smack the person exhibiting the bitchiness. We are all on the same team. I would completely bitch-slap anybody for any of you, and you know it.

Wow. Remember those puke machines on the playground? They were like a merry-go-round for three people, standing up? Well, I think they were literally called "orange twirlers," by the grownups, but the real and true name is puke machine and everybody knows it.

You'd jump on and begin twirling around and around, screaming with joy, laughing into the sky, and before long that rumbling would arise in your tummy. Get off the puke machine - pronto - or suffer the consequences.

Seems like every day is a puke machine lately. I fully believe that whatever happens, something's gonna happen. Isn't it exciting? Praise God.

Last December my friend Erin was going through some things and gave me a necklace and bracelet of hers with angel charms on them, because she knew I'd love them.

This morning when I got ready for those three doctor appointments of my own was the first day I finally wore them both together. Today.

Erin died this afternoon, of some kind of cancer.

That is all.

Well, the dog is alive. Thank God. At the first visit from Trick-or-Treaters, Travis held her for a while, but she was born to run, baby. She is a sleddog, after all. She was out the door like a shot. Lucky (heh) we put our address and Erik's phone number on a charm on her collar. I cannot imagine what would happen to him if anything happens to this puppy. Thank God for lots of folks milling about with their kiddos on Halloween night and the fact that this dog is a social butterfly. She loves on everybody.

Then, sometime in the night, she managed to leap up and get into the leftover Halloween chocolate. Our friend Linda, our animal expert, says chocolate is POISON for dogs. Well, this one is a bit more hyper, but here and now, two days later, we haven't noticed any negative after-effects.

You don't really need to read about this, but you'll forgive a couple who can't have kids. We're not too sickening about "the baby."