Home for Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving has long been my favorite holiday. It probably has something to do with the fact that it always falls near my birthday (though, that has made my birthday somewhat less desirable sometimes) and the fact that it is about food and family. Not necessarily in that order. Our Thanksgivings are also like mini-reunions, since we used to all get together for Thanksgiving.

Of course, when I moved out to Utah in 2004, going home for Thanksgiving was out of the question, if I wanted to be home for Christmas. So I've spent the past seven years in Utah or California celebrating with different families and friends. It was always great, but never quite the same as what I remembered.

This year has been pretty tough on our family. We've had a lot of disappointments and heartaches and we are no where near the end of dealing with them. I don't think I've wanted to go home more for Thanksgiving. Although, I think that every year, it seemed important that I be there, and yet impossible on how to figure out how to get there. I toyed with the idea of charging a plane ticket... and then, I got an unexpected phone call from my cousin, KC, and he made it possible for me to fly home for the week.

It was so great to be there! Everything was perfect and it seemed like everyone who could be there, was there. My cousin who just got back from serving in Afghanistan was there with his wife and baby. My brother and his girlfriend were there. All of the cousins that I grew up with running around on Thanksgiving were there. They shot guns. We ate. We played cards. The rolls tasted better than I remember.

I was just so grateful to be there for a few days, to spend time with my family who I love so much. I miss their company terribly, and I really, really hate having to leave them behind.

Five days in Ohio is hardly enough time to do everything I wanted to do. But I started out the trip playing with Kelsie while Amy and Mom were at work. We galloped around like horses, fed cows on CastleVille and put on make-up. Then Amy and I took Kelsie to get her first haircut. She was so good by sitting really still, but I think she was more nervous than anything else. We didn't take off a lot of length, but we evened it up and got rid of the mullet.

Mackenzie had a basketball scrimmage, so I took the opportunity to watch her play. I am fairly certain that it is the first time I've EVER seen her play basketball. It was really fun. I don't know how to convince her that she needs to be more aggressive, though. When we weren't watching Kiki on the court, we were watching Kelsie make friends with the little boy that was near to her in age. They were having staring contests, and at one point Kels grabbed his little face and shook it back and forth. Dad yelled at her to stop and we explained that he didn't seem to mind, his mother didn't seem to mind so what was the big deal? "That's harassment!" he said. And we laughed.

I went to Friendly's with my friend from elementary school, Kate, and I got my usual candy shoppe sundae. Of course, I had to argue with the waiter about what the sundae was called, since they've changed the menu so many times since I've been away. Kate and I sat and talked for hours and it was great to catch up with her. The waiter happens to be the same guy Amy and our friend Esther often has when they go to Friendly's, and he commented on how Amy and I look alike and also how we drink water like it's going out of style. I probably had seven full glasses of water just because he continued to fill it up. At some point, it became a science experiment: see how long my bladder could hold out. I did want the waiter to think that he bested me, so I finished my glass and insisted that Kate and I get home quickly. It was a close call.

To celebrate my birthday, we (Mom, Amy, Chloe, Julia and me) went to go see Breaking Dawn. It was terrible as expected, but somewhat entertaining. Then we met up with my cousin KC and his parents and brothers at El Sombrero, a favorite Mexican restaurant in Troy, and had a birthday meal. The only picture I got was of Kelsie enjoying her sopapilla.

After dinner, we went home and had tons of desserts to make for Thanksgiving dinner. While we were making apple cheesecake, pumpkin and pecan pie, as well as apple pie, oreo dessert and heaven knows what else, Mackenzie and I decided we needed to give ourselves a little facial.

Brad walked in from work, so we told him to sit down and he did. He let us slather the honey, cinnamon, nutmeg concoction onto his face and then let it stay on there for the allotted time. He's a really good sport. Considering the ingredients, it doesn't smell as good as you would think. But I do love the way it made my skin feel after.

Thanksgiving day consisted of finishing up preparations. Rolling out rolls, and helping Mom in the kitchen as best we can. Then we drove over to my Uncle Craig's and the boys were already out shooting.

As I mentioned, dinner and family time was fantastic. The weather was great, so we were able to take some family pictures. Brad ate his entire dinner like a barbarian. He didn't touch his silverware.

It was so, SO great to see everyone and be home! I just can't believe I was there and I don't think I can ever pay KC back for his kindness. I miss everyone already.

Bradisms

I had been in Ohio a full 24 hours before catching sight of my little brother Brad, though I was most looking forward to it since I was told that he was participating in No-Shave November. I've never really seen him scruffy, much less with a month's worth of "beard". He looks a lot different with his Wolverine-styled hair that hasn't been cut, and the No-Shave November participation is evident. It is a little more than scruff, but it's not.... quite a beard. He is a lot more patchy and hairless and blond than his older brother, Mark -- who is by all accounts, a beast. But I kind of like it.

We only have one bathroom here in our house, and so nighttime routines often collide. I was asking Brad in between flossing and face washing, what was No-Shave November actually for? Did he know?

"Just a chance for men to show what they're capable of," he said.

Then a few minutes later, modestly draped in his towel "air drying", he stood in the mirror, puffing out his biceps (which are formidable) and flexing his pecs.

"Is that part of your nighttime routine?" I asked. "Do you really do that often?"
"Not enough," was his reply.

Personally, I think he's hilarious.

With Bated Breath I Fly Home

Thanks to my very generous, very kind cousin, I had a flight scheduled to take me home so that I could attend family festivities for the greatest holiday of the year (Thanksgiving, folks). I have not been home for Thanksgiving since 2003, and so I am thrilled to be here. I hope it lives up to all my memories.

On the non-stop flight from Salt Lake to Cincinnati, I was assigned the seat 6B, which any frequent flier knows is a middle seat. Ugh! My luck with middle seats is not great. I usually end up between two very large, very smelly sorts of folks, and....

Honestly, I was just grateful that I had a seat.

I was the first to arrive in my row, so I sat down and waited, anticipating having to get up for the person who had the window seat. After a few minutes, a very cute bearded man with incredible brown/green eyes sat down with a friendly, "How's it goin'?" We watched as other people boarded the plane looking for their seat assignments, always targeting their glance further down the aisle. We were seated second row in economy, and so it was easy to see that each person was looking for a larger number than row six.

After a while, Beard mentioned that he thought that the passengers were likely to be all loaded, and we were not going to have someone sitting at the window.

I'm just not that lucky, and I told him so. I was going to wait a few more minutes, because they hadn't shut the door yet, and so it was very likely that the passenger was late, but most certainly on his way. The passengers were coming fewer and further between. And then they started coming in sucking wind, evidence that they had just run the length of the airport in order to catch their flight.

Every time someone appeared at the end of the first class cabin, my neighbor and I held our breath, hoping that we did indeed get to claim the extra seat.

"You've gotten my hopes up now," I commented.
"I think we're safe," he said.

I waited just a minute more and then moved over and buckled my seat belt. But the door wasn't shut, and there were still a few more passengers that had to find their seats. A Colts fan walked purposefully to our row and then looked around. We were certain we had his spot.

We held out breath again, waiting for him to ask me to move.

He moved on, and we both sighed in relief.

"I wish they would just close the door," I said.
"Any minute now," he confirmed, looking at his phone.

We talked about how he was a golf caddy, but currently it is off-season, so he just travels. He told me he was from Cincinnati, and asked why I did not fly in to Dayton instead of Cincinnati. We talked about the podunk airport he has to fly out of to leave the area of Oregon where he lives.

And then finally, they announced that the door was shut, and we were pushing off the gate.

Success! I broke out my Kindle, and enjoyed my window seat all the way home.

Childhood Home

21 S Monroe.


*SOMETHING HAPPENED TO THE PICTURE OF THE FRONT SIDE OF MY HOUSE! THIS IS NOT OK!

As you may have guessed by my very descriptive title, this is the very house that I spent 13 glorious years, and where my parents currently reside in Troy, OH. Much has changed since we moved into this house all those years ago and I wanted to scan some before shots and post them as well, but I ran out of time... Maybe I will do that some other time, as the transformation is amazing.

The house is old. Real, real old. When we moved in, it only had 2 fuses, that blew constantly. You couldn't run the heater in the bathroom and turn on the curling iron. The landscaping was AWFUL, and we dealt with more overgrowth, weeds, poison ivy, and out of control bushes than you can imagine. But that was hardly something my parents had to think about when they moved in. When the house was bought, the bathroom was the first to be remodeled. I was looking at a picture, and guys... this bathroom. Well, it's no wonder my mom insisted that it be finished before we moved in. It had a claw foot bath tub and toilet with a window over it. When we moved in, the kitchen and "dining room" were two separate areas, but the kitchen was opened up to the bathroom. We have a picture celebrating my brother's birthday and though we sat at the kitchen table (the dining room was full of evidence of the demolition going on in our house: a torn down wall, ladders, a weird book shelf we were using to store food because we didn't have cupboards, tools, plastic to try to keep the dust in control, etc.) the bathroom door was open and there is a toilet in the picture staring right at us. My mom and I had a pretty good giggle over that.

The house was initially a 3 bedroom house. The "master" bedroom connected to the bathroom through a door that has not been removed completely to accommodate a laundry room, but in those days, my parents built a wall to cut off the great room that was across from the "master" and turned that into their room. The old master turned into a baby's room, office, another baby's room, the office, then my room, and now houses the washer and dryer (that sat in our kitchen for YEARS) and my brother. He likes to tell people that he lives in the laundry room, and it will probably be an emotional scar he bears for years to come. I look forward to it. (One day it will be a story similar to the Shiny Blue Mumu for Halloween, that will bring my mom to tears every time we tell it.) Speaking of walls being built, my dad built a wall across from the bathroom to give it more privacy.

We spent years with UGLY pink carpet that was somebody's leftovers when they carpeted the house. The linoleum in the bathroom was also extra from someone. The rest of the house had wood floors, and I wish we would have kept those...but they were covered in hunter green carpet that was popular in the 90s. The whole house was also covered in layers and layers of wallpaper. When we sanded the trim the dust was TOXIC. Basically, the house on the inside is unrecognizable to what we moved in to.

The back of the house has changed traumatically as well. As you see in the picture, there are two doors that lead to the outside. The one on the left used to be a window in the "dining room" (where my dad tore down a wall and place counter-space and cupboards) and the other door lead out to a large carriage house. Yes, a carriage house. The hitch post was even still there when we moved in. My dad built a make-shift wall in the middle of the carriage house and one of the large, swinging doors lead to a storage space that wasn't insulated. The door walked out into the other portion of the carriage house where we stored the horses, I mean, we actually put our washer and dryer there. In the winter my mom had to leave a space heater running and "tuck them into bed" so the water pipes didn't freeze. She usually did this before she tucked us children to bed. Once the carriage house was torn down (we helped with that!) there was nothing but a pile of rubble for a while. There was talk of building a laundry room/play room but that would cost too much. We put siding up (the old shingles were disgusting!) and opted for a deck. Now, my dad had built a deck outside the back door (the one that used to be a window) years and years ago...and we decided to extend it, and add railings and stairs. I helped build the deck that turned out to be amazing.

After all that has been done on the house, the one thing that has NOT changed (with the exception of getting a new furnace and a bigger fuse box) is the basement. It still is dirty, and smells the same. And it gets creepier the older I get. I swear the stairs get steeper too.


Yes, that is a dirt floor. And that is the step/ledge we sat on during a tornado watch one night. Amy and I tried to pretend like we were really terrified, and we brought stuffed animals down with us, ones that we needed to "save" and really, they weren't very important. My parents had to carry us from the bottom of the steps to the ledge because that bottom part was flooded well past their ankles.

Also, to be noted - the debris that you are looking at in the top of the picture is a pile of dirt that was directly under a secret passageway/stowaway in our "dining room." It had a cellar like door that could be opened and I think I was told that it was used as a sort of refrigerator at one point, because the cellar was able to keep things cool. We found stacks of newspapers of insignificance (at least, I couldn't convince my parents that the rotting old newspapers of the past were significant) and they were disposed of. I don't even know what the dates were - if they were older than the 1980s, I'm really upset we threw them away.


There are a few things to note in this picture. #1 - the newer beam that is cut out of the right side of the picture is a support beam, that I am pretty sure is being sustained by the piles of dirt, rocks, and debris that is surrounding it. It is also the support beam that was directly under my bedroom/laundry room/Bradley's room (or whatever it was at the time). Now, I've always thought that maybe if we could clear out the piles of dirt, rocks, etc. then maybe we would find something worth money. Perhaps buried treasure. Since I am also fairly convinced that the house could collapse if we decided to dig, we have not done so. #2 - It is pitch dark in this area because the single light bulb, dangling from the ceiling like in an old torture chamber of some foreign film, burnt out and you can't see anything to change it. At least, I wouldn't go trying to change it in the pitch black. There are all kinds of spiders and creepy things down there! #3 - The stone wall that you see in there is the Coal Pit. It is where they used to shovel coal into the house so people could feed their furnace. The coal shaft/door is now used whenever my brother is locked out of the house. He kicks it in, finds his way through the darkness, and then kicks in the door that is at the top of the treacherous stairs.



I LOVE this old house. We have modernized it for our own purposes, and of course, had I been in charge, I would have done things differently. Very differently. But, I enjoyed growing up here and it's central location made it very easy for us to run around town as though we owned it. We could get near to anywhere on foot or by bike. We walked across the street to the library, weren't far from the levy, the Square, the pool, the park, the school, to our friends' houses, and back again. The Strawberry Festival parade would always bring people from church to our house in order sit on our porch and use our bathroom. Living across the street from Dunaway's (the Irish pub) always made for a good laugh whenever a drunk would come and attempt to ride his bicycle home.

Even though it is small - four bedrooms and one bathroom is hardly enough space to fit seven people - it was comfortable. We even fit my uncle's family in for a time - 13 people in that house! Can you imagine? It was fun, let me tell you. I still don't know how we did it.