So, Wednesday and Thursday were rough, but the holiday weekend improved once the actual holiday was over and there were fewer reminders of all the family we weren’t seeing. The Thanksgiving dinner we had at John and Michelle’s was delicious, of course, and how’s this for random—one of their family friends who came over for dinner was none other than a former student of mine. To my great fortune, he had made an A in my class and was one of the best writers that semester, so the awkwardness was kept to a minimum. How horrifying it would have been if he’d been one of the ones who had failed…

Friday, we got up early and went Black Friday shopping. We were in desperate need of a new vacuum, and the one I wanted came with a Sears gift card that became my Christmas present (hence the outrageous heels, which I wore nearly all day Sunday). After shopping, we came home and fell fast asleep for several hours, waking up in time to eat lunch and string lights outside. Dinner was pizza and Coke from Papa John’s (the day after Thanksgiving is for leftovers, not for cooking! So, in the absence of leftovers, it was for ordering pizza). It was fun—we haven’t ordered pizza just the two of us in a while, and even though I started the holiday bemoaning the fact that we were all by ourselves, I was at this point beginning to enjoy just being with Jesse. It’s nice when ordering pizza can feel a bit adventurous, a bit rebellious.

After dinner Friday, we put up the tree while watching kids’ movies on TV. Oliver has only climbed the tree once so far and has not managed to take it down. Saturday, we had Brandon and Kara over for dinner and a movie (I snuck the green bean casserole in, though I spared them the turkey, but really only because it was still frozen).

Over the weekend, I continued my cleaning quest, and now I’ve vacuumed the whole house (except for Jesse’s office), including the baseboards and under the stove and refrigerator, as much as I could. I cleaned the ceiling fans and the bathrooms and got caught up on my filing (major undertaking there), organized my coupons, broke out the flannel sheets. Vacuumed again. And again. If we had holiday weekends at home every month, my house would sparkle it would be so clean.

Sunday, we had a big Southern lunch at Brandon and Kara’s—fried venison, cooked carrots, and rice and gravy. I never knew you could put gravy on top of rice, but apparently you can. It was all delicious. Oh, and Kara made chocolate sugar cookies that were absolutely addictive. I found myself craving them today, and I emailed her asking for the recipe.

After church Sunday night, we went over to the Paschals’ adorable new house and ate ham sandwiches and popcorn. I helped as Kirsten arranged her study, a lovely little room that has a half-library half-coffee shop feel to it. We all basked in the fact that they live just minutes down the road. On our way home, Jesse and I started timed the trip but forgot to look at the clock when we got home. Add to this the fact that Warren and Sharon (and Story!) will also be moving to our part of town in the near future (if the stars finally align), and we’re getting that much closer to the sitcom “everybody drops in and says witty things” ideal.

So, the holiday wasn’t what it usually is. But we weren’t as alone as we might have been, and there’s still a lot to be thankful for.

I’m still jonesing for some leftover turkey sandwiches, though…

A new vacuum (that actually works–imagine that). A couple sweaters. And leopard-print heels. That’s better.

Tomorrow will be the first Thanksgiving we’ve spent without seeing any family.

We had plans to spend Thanksgiving in Florida and Christmas in North Carolina but at the last minute things got switched up and so we find ourselves in North Carolina, all by our lonesomes. Everyone’s going out of town, it seems. Or having family come in town. The city feels empty, regardless.

I think up until today, I’ve been in a bit of denial that we’ll be alone for Thanksgiving. I even bought a turkey and the stuff to make a green bean casserole (it was on sale). For the Thanksgiving dinner I won’t be making this year. (And how am I going to con our friends—who will likely be spending the weekend eating so much they won’t want to even see another turkey until next November—into coming over to help us eat our eighteen-pound bird?)

I remember Thanksgiving in college, when Marianne would pass up invitations to join us in Titusville for Thanksgiving dinner, her parents being all the way in Japan. I couldn’t understand it then—Thanksgiving with non-family was better than no Thanksgiving at all, wasn’t it? But now I totally get it. I’d rather just cancel the holiday altogether and skip right onto Christmas.

Tomorrow we’re going to John and Michelle’s “Thanksgiving for the people who don’t get to be with family” party, and I’m sure we’ll have a nice time. And people have been really sweet to us, inviting us over and everything. I’m just ready for the whole thing to be over. I don’t want any more reminders. Ungrateful much? Yeah. And during the holiday where the whole point is gratitude. Don’t think I don’t get the irony. Ha. Well, I promise the wallowing will be over by the time everyone gets back in town.

So, anyway. Here’s looking forward to Friday.

Lately, instead of renting movies we’ve been watching ones we own and haven’t seen in a while (imagine that). Last night, we cracked out Apollo 13, and I must say, even though I’ve seen it probably about a dozen times—my parents bought it on VHS, and I was an only child, so I tended to watch and re-watch every movie we owned—I still think it’s a great movie. But what it really made me think about last night was Florida.

Recently, I’ve been downright homesick. Though, to be fair, I’m not sure whether I’m homesick for the actual place or for my childhood. The two are inextricable.

There were the space-themed exhibits at the National Air and Space Museum in DC, the lunar module and rover, the paintings of the lunar landings. There’s the talk of Marvin and Amie maybe visiting Florida next year to see a launch. And just today, I thought—homemade lemonade. How I would love to have some homemade lemonade.

So, the things I took for granted, growing up in Florida:

1. Launches. Rockets, space shuttles. We’d watch the countdown on TV and then if it was really going, we’d run outside to the front yard to watch. And there it would be, a big plume and a glowing ball at the top, rising above our house. I’d stand smack in the middle of our street and look up, and I can still feel the warm asphalt on my bare feet. I can still hear the rumble of the launches, the deep, almost crunchy sound. I remember waking up to that sound, the windows rattling, terrified for a split second, thinking we were having an earthquake or something, before realizing it was just a shuttle launch and going back to bed.

2. All the space stuff. I didn’t realize it was special to grow up a few miles from Kennedy Space Center. Space was so normal to us. Everybody’s dad worked at KSC or at Cape Canaveral. Our next-door neighbor was a retired NASA engineer; he helped me with math. My first official date with Jesse was to the KSC visitor’s center, and our first kiss was beneath a bright orange shuttle external tank. One of Jesse’s dad’s friends was an astronaut, and we got free tickets to see an IMAX movie he’d helped film at the International Space Station.

3. Fresh fruit. Dad’s thumb has always been impossibly green (I got my mom’s hands), so in our backyard we had quite the collection of fruit trees—oranges, grapefruits, lemons, limes, tangelos, starfruit. Bananas for a while, though I believe they were killed in one of our rare deep freezes. My childhood winters were full of oranges, the sounds of my mom making orange juice in the kitchen, picking bags of them to give away when someone visited from out of state. And when I was sick, Dad would make me limeade or lemonade, sometimes ice cold, sometimes heated up if I had a sore throat. The fruit I can get at Harris Teeter tastes nothing like the fruit that came out of our backyard.

4. All things tropical. I didn’t think I’d miss palm trees and the ability to take a day trip to Miami, but I do. I miss the colors of Florida, its neons, its flamingo pinks. I miss how gaudy it could be, how bright the sun was.

5. Theme parks. There, I said it. I miss Disney. I miss how just about every billboard advertised some new ride or attraction, how everything was geared toward tourists, how it felt like a perpetual vacation. When I lived in Orlando, I loved to roll my eyes at the constant barrage of theme park ads, but now I miss them. And though I was often bored, there was the sense that I never really had to be. There was always something wanting to entertain me.

There was just something fundamentally exciting about Florida, something I didn’t appreciate until leaving. The space stuff, being so close to something that represents what we can do with enough determination and brainpower and creativity. And all the rest, the excess of family fun and a growing season that never stopped, there is something wonderful about having grown up in such a place.

The only way to accurately describe this week would be through a series of grunts, but I haven’t quite figured out how to translate those to words on a screen yet, so I’ll do my best without them.

Let’s see, on four of the past five days I have taken care of one of three different babies. (And, in case you’re tempted, just know that I will punch the first person to say, “God’s preparing you for something…” Well, okay, I won’t punch you, but I will scowl at you angrily. Fear the scowl!) And on three of the five past days, I’ve had lunch or tea get-togethers with friends. Plus small group, as always, on Tuesday. A dinner party Wednesday. And I’ve had this random pain in my side that is quite preoccupying and distressing. It goes away. It comes back. It hurts to breathe or sleep on my left side. If you notice me bending awkwardly to my right, clutching my ribs, and making a funny face, don’t worry, I’m just dying from some rare and sudden Left Lung Disease.

The house has been in varying degrees of disrepair all week, and by “varying degrees” I mean “unkempt to messy to messier to even messier to no one can step foot in my house.” Yesterday, I finally slogged my way through a couple sizeable mountains of laundry and one enormous summit of dishes, and today I tackled the bathrooms (including the tub).

And on top of everything, I decided this was the week to start new writing goals. I want to finish a draft of the book by the end of January. So, I’ve got this month and the next two, plus three major holidays in between. For the rest of November, my target is five thousand words a week.

With the kind of week I’ve had, normally I would have written some terribly small number of words that I would later just delete in one fell swoop. But, determined as I was with my brand-new goals and my nearly frantic desire to have a draft of this book done soon, I actually went over my goal! Happy grunts (while clutching side)!

Now that I’ve successfully navigated this week, I’m going to grab the brownie Jesse bought me from some charity bake sale earlier in the week and curl up in front of his computer to catch up on Ugly Betty. Friday, I love you.

• Two women, mere yards from the entrance to the National Zoo, stop to take a picture of a squirrel standing beneath an oak.
• When the toddler I babysit passes this book with a picture of Nixon on its spine, he points to the picture and says, “Baby.”
• Walking from the Metro stop to the entrance of Arlington, a bee divebombs Jesse and then takes an interest in my hair. We swat dramatically and narrowly escape. When we later cross the street, one of the guards chuckles and says, “Almost got you, didn’t he?” We crack up.
• On Saturday, I attend a baby shower and am talking to Laura, who is sitting to my left, about the “Night of Worship” at church the night before. I mentioned I was surprised how much I enjoyed it, since the singing part of church is never my favorite part. Then, I look around and realize that half the women sitting at our table are in the band…I thought about clarifying that it wasn’t anything about the band itself, but more about my personality—I just don’t really like singing. And while I enjoy concerts, I’d rather be in a classroom, so I always prefer the message to the music. Instead, I just sank a little lower in my chair and hoped they hadn’t heard.

Up by 5:45 this morning!

In bed by 8:30 last night, reading. Lights out by 9:30. Full night of sleep and I’m actually getting work done before Friday’s events begin.