No, no, thank YOU, Thanksgiving

I haven’t weighed myself in recent days, but I’m quite certain I should log a bit of cardio time before I do.  To say Thanksgiving is an indulgence is a massive understatement.  Thanksgiving is an indulgence every year and this year did not disappoint. 

We had dinner with my family last weekend and combined it with my sister’s birthday party.  So that meant Thanksgiving dinner with all the fixin’s + birthday cake.  EQUALS full n’ happy.

We had dinner with AH’s family on Sunday.  Anonymous Mother-In-Law has a long standing tradition of not only cooking the second most delicious meal ever (my mom’s is first because she’s my mom and can rock the socks off a turkey and makes the World’s Greatest Stuffing), but also serving three desserts.  I’m pretty sure it was a fluke the first year I was around and then I hinted at loving the fact that she had de-ssert, two-ssert, and three-ssert.  Now, I think she’s just been pressured by our expectations of three-ssert and doesn’t want to disappoint.  Thanksgiving dinner #2 with all the fixin’s + three-ssert (trifle, lemon meringue pie, and cupcakes this year).  EQUALS fat n’ happy.

And then, because we had Monday off of work, AH decided to cook an extravagant dinner just for the four of us.  We had butter-basted prime rib (yes, I just said what you think I just said), garlic roasted potatoes (in the world of the Irish, “roasted” means deep fried.  My hips forbid me to correct them), marrowfat peas (another Irish thing; quite possibly the least vegetable-like pea on the market), Pillsbury Crescent Rolls, gravy and steamed broccoli and carrots (wait…how’d they get in there?).  Drool.  Thanksgiving dinner #3 with all the fixin’s + copious amounts of animal fat in all forms.  EQUALS morbidlyobesetothepointofimmobile n’ happy.

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Notice the Double Decker Dinner.  Saves from having to get up for a second serving.  Wouldn’t want to waste any of those precious calories.

Three rounds of gourmet meals aside, Monday was actually my favourite day of the long weekend.  We spent the whole day at home, doing nothing in particular but everything at the same time.  AH and I puttered around the house doing yard work and vacuuming and laundry.  The girls played and coloured and kept the fighting to a dull roar.  We had one specific issue with the ownership of one particular plush chair.  It is Eirinn’s, but Avery had another think.  Luckily, we had bought Avery one with the intension of it being a Christmas gift, but it was on sale and it was needed now, so now there are two plush chairs.  Yes, they still fought over them, but at least the fights could be defused by relocating one of their bums to another chair.

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We had a minor/maybe-not-so-minor-we’ll-see-in-the-morning incident involving one Miss Avery Quinn’s face, one kitchen chair, and one very hard, very unforgiving ceramic tile floor.  I won’t be completely sure until it’s had time to cure and set over night, but I think she’ll have a pretty nasty shiner on her right eye and an equally nasty bruise on her right cheek.  The poor thing, in her recent obsession with climbing onto the chairs and, subsequently, the table, lost her footing on the chair and fell to the ground, catching her fall with her face.  If it looks bad when she wakes up, I won’t be surprised if we have CAS knocking at our door.  In our defense, she made us do it  AH and I are both righties she’s a quick little monkey.*

I had the foresight to make these in the morning.

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Hey you, in the middle.  Yeah, you.  I’ll be seeing you shortly.  Get your affairs in order.

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* UPDATE ON THE FACE-SMASHING – Barely even a mark this morning.  A tiny little pin-prick on her upper lid, and one that matches just below.  No bruises, no shiners.  It’s funny how it can look like she was hit face-on by a Mack truck last night, and this morning it looks like two minor mosquito bites that she scratched.  Kids… If that had been an adult, they would have been laid out on the couch, moaning and groaning, with an ice pack, complaining about all the world’s injustices and how they just couldn’t possibly go to work in their condition.  Avery shook it off ten minutes post-accident and, when we asked her to show us her “poor widdle eye”, she stuck out her tongue.

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