on 20 November 2007

So. It's here. Again. And we're off to Savannah, for another Thanksgiving.

What are the plans, you ask? Well I'll tell you.

We'll drive down Thursday eeeaaarrrllly so that we can get there in time for dinner at 12. In reality we'll probably curse the alarm clock, get on the road very late, eat snacks all day, miss the dinner entirely, warm up leftovers and catch up with the family on individual basis's.

Dad owns/runs an awesome sporting goods store and we're youngest children and the Husband has had...shall we say...a turbulent relationship with his Dad in the past, so we'll end up working all weekend to show Dad that we love him, because we really do. But I shall probably grumble about it because I'm tired and want to nap.

My MIL and one of my brothers-in-law (and his whole family) are all going on cruise on Friday so we'll only see them Thursday evening.

The Husband briefly mentioned riding out to a "hunting cabin" owned by his uncle (shout out to uncle Marlon!) to shoot guns, because the Husband has an inner redneck and likes to do that kind of thing. And in reality I don't mind because this "hunting cabin" also has couches and indoor plumbing and central heat and air conditioning. Since the BIL will be gone from the family store, the Husband and I will probably bag the shooting plans and work on Saturday as well as Friday.

Sunday we'll brave I-95 along with the hojillion other drivers to get home by Sunday night where I'll probably be so tired that I collapse on the futon and cry for a while.

Theoretically, all of this working and family goodness will be interspersed with some fine food and (one can only hope) conversation.

I've been going to Savannah with the Husband for nearly 4 years. I still get nervous tummy. And they aren't mean to me...they're lovely. I'm just....nervous.

good grief.