Didn't you love to put all the olives on your fingers and eat them off one by one?

Well I didn't think I'd have time to write, given my full and somewhat hectic list of activities scheduled for today. Ooooo...I just feel so needed...

Then the door knob, decorative plate, bolt lock and all, decided to completely fall out of the front door and everything went out the window. Or rather, door.

The locksmith just left after 2 1/2 hours of trying to first fix it, and then having to buy another that doesn't even match the other door. Whatever, the owner's paying and when and if we buy this house ourselves (Zee Medical van hassles notwithstanding), we'll redo the whole thing to our taste anyway. But now I'm stuck between what I was supposed to do this morning and where I'm going tonight. Screw it...I'll just do laundry.

Such an exciting life I lead. Although at this point, if I'm not puking, then it's all vegetarian gravy.

But at some point this evening, after meeting up with Emily for dinner, I need to get home and make the UnTurkey. Since of course, no one else in the world will want some, I only need to make sure it's good enough to feed Mr. Blogger and myself. We're heading up to family in L.A. and will bring it with us. Have fake meat, will travel.

Between getting everything done for MB's birthday and being somewhat bedridden, I had almost forgotten about all the Thanksgiving hoopla. But considering how many Thanksgivings I've missed due to illness, injury and poked out eyeballs...it's never been my favorite of holidays.

My grandmother (Mom's mom) used to go to so much trouble and cook EVERYTHING (I think we brought a can of olives every year) for about 13 of us. The year of the aforementioned poked out eyeball, she had been coming to see me, by bus, every single day of my six week hospitalization.

When I got out just in time for the holiday, she still had to pull everything together. But just as we finally all sat down to eat (and say grace, being the good Catholics that we were...emphasis on WERE), she PASSED OUT.

Literally..."OK, let's all be thankful that Brooke is here, eyepatch and all, and dig in everybody..." BAM! She had reached her limit. That woman was one tough cookie and was worse than I am in admitting defeat or fatigue when it comes to GETTING THE JOB DONE. But se finito.

My uncle immediately scooped her up, took her to bed and there she stayed for the rest of the day. We didn't see her again. But DAMNED if she didn't pull off the usual amazing feast before she collapsed. (And when we were all calmed down and assured that she was in fact, perfectly fine, just exhausted...MAN did we laugh our asses off!)

I'm telling you...between both my mother AND father's sides of the family...there is no room for WIMPS!

I'm doomed.