Prep Rally

I’m not sure how this happened, but I am hosting Thanksgiving dinner for my family, my in-laws, and hubs’ crazy cousin this year.

I’ve never hosted a dinner this large (10 adults + 2 pipsqueaks).  Sure, we’ve had parties where a crock pot full of pulled pork and some really low-rent margaritas have sufficed, but I had to unpack our wedding china in preparation for tomorrow.  Shit is about to get real.

I’m responsible for cooking many a casserole this year, which are great because they feed a lot of people, but which also make me nervous because the only thing I’ve ever been allowed to cook on Thanksgiving is Stove Top stuffing, because even if you forget butter, one of only TWO ingredients in the recipe, it still tastes completely normal.  Or so I hear.

I let hubs handle the alcohol situation by himself.  Big mistake.  Sunday alcohol sales just started this week in Georgia, so he headed to Total Wine and picked up some accoutrements to go with our after-dinner coffee.  Moral of the story: do not let hubs shop for alcohol alone.

In other news, has anybody else seen those Target commercials with the woman who is training for Black Friday and completely cracked out?!  I’m looking forward to Black Friday being over, if only so those commercials can stop airing incessantly.  They make my heart rate go up.

I have the house to myself this morning so I can cook, clean, and rock out to Christmas music as I mentally prepare for tomorrow’s festivities.  The goal: make sides that are edible, and do not burn the house down.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Things I Don’t Get About Yoga

Last night, I decided to take a little smidge of “me” time (because hubs has a cold and passed out on the couch while watching “How It’s Made: Dr. Pepper” at 8:30), and decided to do some yoga in our basement.  The only yoga video I own is this one, and while it doesn’t make me break a sweat, it does provide some good stretches, and the narrator’s voice is so, so soothing.  I have a thing for soothing voices.  Anytime I get a voicemail from someone at work with that buttery, sing-songy tone in their voice, I save it, so that I can go back and listen to something pleasant in case I need to pick up the phone and look busy at a moment’s notice.

That being said, there are some things about yoga that I just don’t get.

Downward facing dog is one of the most basic poses in yoga, and while it is common and looks simple, it hurts my wrists, people!  I thought yoga was supposed to help my body, not grind my joints together.  I’ve expressed this problem in a yoga class before, and the instructor told me to “take my weight off of my hands” while in this position.  Um…

The instructor in the video I did last night reminds you multiple times to “soften the belly”.  Is she assuming that I’m constantly flexing my rock-hard abs?  Because I can assure you, my belly is already softened.

One of the more impressive (looking) yoga poses I can pull off is the shoulderstand.  It requires no real skill but it looks fancy.  And it hurts my neck real bad.  When coming out of this pose, you’re instructed to lower yourself back to the ground “vertebrae by vertebrae”.  As if I have that much control over my body as it comes careening down from the sky.

Also, last night was the first time I’ve been told to get into “happy baby pose”, which, I’m sorry, but I thought this was yoga and not a lamaze class.  I have never felt more awkward, and more glad to not be in a room full of people who also looked like they were all giving birth at the same time.

I think my favorite pose of all would have to be the last one: final relaxation pose.

I like yoga, for the sake of getting a little bit of stretching and relaxation in, but overall, I prefer a workout that’s going to make me sweat and help me burn off that Little Debbie Christmas tree cake I shamefully ate after dinner.  I’ve taken yoga classes before that kicked my ass, but at home, I am okay with a little non-taxing yoga intermission every once in a while.  It makes me feel rich, snobby and cool, if only for a moment.

Go Away, Aaron Neville

I have a general rule of thumb when it comes to massive amounts of data, processing massive amounts of data, and massive amounts of cursing when my laptop freezes and I have to reboot, thus losing my massive amounts of data.

Fill my ears with music and try my best not to freak the cluck out.

There is nothing worse than deciding that you are probably fine without need to listen to music, and then realizing that your left your headphones at home, or that the last remaining earbud has short-circuited, or that IT has wizened up and blocked Pandora.

But not today, my friends!  Today I break the communist unspoken rule that Christmas music should only be enjoyed after Thanksgiving, and I will listen to it as I fight with Excel for the rest of the afternoon.  I.  Love.  Christmas.  Music.  And I know it’s taboo to blast it from the mountaintops before it’s socially appropriate, but it’s okay if I listen to it in the privacy of my cubicle on my one working earbud, right?  I thought so.

I won’t subject innocent bystanders to the tunes until Thanksgiving has come and gone and Christmas season is officially upon us.  Except for you, hubs.  Because your truck has XM and my car does not, and there are too many good holiday stations on XM radio NOT to listen to it as soon as it’s available.  Are you regretting not installing that XM unit that you bought for me 2 years ago?  ARE YOU?!?

Christmas music makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.  It reminds me of my childhood, and of a time where the weight of the world (money, age, football season…) didn’t rest upon my shoulders.  It makes me happy.

UNLESS it’s an Aaron Neville Christmas song.  I can’t stand his voice.  The worst part about my hatred of Aaron Neville?  Somehow, one of his songs ended up on my iPod classic that has a shattered screen and only works when it’s plugged into my 5-year-old iHome, and occasionally, when I’m in a hurry and push “play” without making sure I’m in a playlist first, I hear the opening notes to his version of “The Christmas Song” because “Aaron” comes first in the alphabet.  Then I frantically change it to ANYTHING THAT WILL PLAY INSTEAD EVEN A MILEY CYRUS SONG SO HELP ME GOD.

Frank Sinatra, take me home.