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As I’m writing this, I’m suspended in that moment in time I like to affectionately call “The Crappy Night Before School Starts Again After A Really Nice But Short Vacation.” A long title, but it sums up how I’m feeling. It’s been a great mini-vacation, for the most part. But it wasn’t without a few snafus (why don’t we use this word more often? Snafu. I hereby declare that I will use it in a sentence at least once a day for the rest of the year. My late-year’s resolution, if you will) that need to be mentioned so that I can bury the disappointment and move on toward Christmas.

My List Of Disappointing Thanksgiving Snafus:

1. I did not eat one single piece of my mother’s pecan pie. It’s my favorite. She makes it once a year. Which means it will be another 361 days until I can redeem this tragic situation.

2. In a fit of split-end frustration, I trimmed my own hair. So now I can’t decide whether to make an appointment with my regular gal or wait a few weeks and hope it grows out enough to keep her from noticing—i.e. looking at me with that same disappointed glare she leveled at me last time.

3. I touched up my roots with a box of Clairol, but grabbed the wrong color, so I have a slight ring of brownish red at my hairline. But as long as I stay out of direct sunlight, I’m pretty sure no one can tell. Except my stylist. Decision made—definitely staying away from her for awhile.

4. I forgot to make the seven-layer salad—which I make every year and which clearly says on the recipe card to prepare the night before and store in the refrigerator—until an hour before dinner. It was okay, but definitely inferior to previous versions. I could barely even look at it while I forked it in my mouth.

5. My sister and I wore the exact same outfit for Black Thursday/Friday shopping.

6. I went Black Thursday/Friday shopping.

Okay, I’ve gotta pause this list to make a brief comment. What the H-E-Double-Hockey Stick happened on Black Thursday/Friday?? Did y’all venture out? Was anyone else in fear for their lives, as I was? I mean, there we were—my mom, both my sisters, and me—wedged between Christmas trees and boxes of leftover garden hoses in the Wal-Mart garden center, waiting for the eight p.m. bell to ring. And then five minutes before the cattle call sounded, a few people got into a shoving match, heated words were exchanged, I repented for my bad attitude, and turned around to leave.

There was no escape. None anywhere.

So…feeling the outer edges of panic beginning to settle around me, I pushed through the crowd, which pushed back at me. The serious stench of Male Body Odor wafted through the masses and landed straight up my nose. Black spots floated across my eyes and morphed into one big ink stain. And just before I thought I would either A. Pass Out, B. Cry, C. Completely Meltdown, or D. Scream “Fire!” and hope people believed me enough to make a flippin’ little room—I broke free. Never had I felt such relief to see fish tanks and bags of dog food in my life. Air. Sweet air. And not one hint of B.O. in the immediate vicinity.

I nearly lost my life that night, and all I came away with was an eight dollar art set. Not an Xbox. Not even a scooter. That dark, sad reality was nearly my undoing…until I went to Target and temporarily forgot about the Wal-Mart fiasco. Not one cuss word was uttered during that trip. I was so proud of myself.

7. I forgot to take a picture of me and my sisters for my new “Sisters” frame they gave me for my birthday. And since my older sister is now hundreds of miles away in her classy home state of Indiana, the frame will most likely sit empty for a year. Much like the “Sisters” frame they gave me for my birthday a few years back, which still remains unused in my potholder drawer…

8. I made homemade caramels, and they stuck to the pre-sprayed waxed paper.

9. I spent two solid hours separating homemade caramels from pre-sprayed waxed paper, feeling not unlike a surgeon separating vital organs from the not-so-vital ones. At least that’s how I imagined it.

10. I dragged in my four-year-old pre-lit Christmas tree and discovered it now has only one strand that works. Seriously, last Christmas I literally picked up my fully-lit tree and carried it to my garage, where it has remained without moving for an entire year. So, why the non-performing bulbs? Why the sudden non-compliance? What the heck?

But all in all, it was a good Thanksgiving break. Short, but good. Now that I’ve gotten my frustrations out in my little blog space, I can almost manage to think about school starting tomorrow without completely throwing up.

Almost. But then. Then. My husband just reminded me that next month is my favorite event of the year. But it isn’t Christmas. Or New Year’s Eve. Or even the increasing likelihood of our first winter snowfall.

It’s 24-hours of “A Christmas Story,” which starts on Christmas Eve and runs through Christmas Day. I love this. Love, love, LOVE it. And we have no cable. Got rid of it a few months ago. Y’all, I can’t miss it. This can’t happen.

I’m totally calling the cable company tomorrow. This is one snafu I wouldn’t get over.

Have A Great Monday!

Amy