My parents arrived last night, after catching an evening flight, stopping at the store (madness), and driving the long, dark way out. Poor mom was riding shotgun and therefore had gate duty when they at long last reached our driveway. It was, of course, raining.
My stepdad was looking watching through the rear view mirror to make sure mom would be okay out there, when he noticed that something was wrong with the mirror - it appeared that the gate was in front of Mom! That's when he realized that my mother had shut herself outside the gate....
The next precious picture I am anticipating is my mom donning my daughter's rubber boots (at least they are as stylish as rubber boots can be - pink with running horses) and slogging out to visit my sheep. It really is precious, because the mud and barn muck is not my mom's natural element, but she is gung ho. One visit she and the kids had the horse stall so clean it gleamed.
I think I am winging it a bit today -usually, I have this tight schedule of all the dishes starting at 5 am, but the turkey is a bit smaller than usual and everyone wants to eat later, so I guess I will figure it out as I go along - especially since I am not sure how many people are showing up (love that about having teens: friends showing up unexpectedly). Since last year, I have become accustomed to making 48 bagels, two loaves of bread, 36 English muffins and some kind of treat on a single day on the weekend these days, so the multi-dish martial exercise that is Thanksgiving in an American household is not so daunting.
I love Thanksgiving, am more thankful than I can say that my parents are here, but I found myself a little wistful thinking of the outside things I could be doing on this vacation day..... all involving manure in some state of decomposition. Perhaps this farmer thing is embedding itself deeper than I suspected.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!