Pre Thanksgiving Light

He called.  That’s like the best thing that could have ever possibly happened as far as I’m concerned, even though I didn’t have much of a chance to talk to him.  I was in the midst of a major, earthshaking kind of crisis that mortal boys just can’t seem to understand at the time.  

See, we don’t do thanksgiving at our house.  For as long as I can remember, Thanksgiving belongs to Auntie Em, but that doesn’t mean we can come empty handed.  Mom makes this killer sweet potato casserole thingamabob that is like the highlight of the whole shebang.  Only this year, as luck would have it, Mom decided to break her ankle, so guess who was stuck cooking?

I got a confession, in case anyone thinks I do everything well.  As a cook, I suck.  Major suckdom, like from the minute I walk into the kitchen, things start to fall apart, and the fact that I can clean them up super fast only goes so far.  Add to that the fact that Mom knows how much of a kitchen klutz I am, and you have a recipe for one stressed out super teen.

Of course, I can multitask, which is a good thing because I’m running up and down the stairs to check on Mom, across the hall to my computer to type this, and then still trying to keep an eye on everything down in the kitchen.  I’m not physically tired, but emotionally, mentally, I’m pretty much drained.

But the good thing is, or at least I think its good, is that I’m going to meet Ted tonight so we can talk.  I’m pretty nervous about it, and I’m thinking from the way he sounded on the phone, that so is he.

Ok, I’m running now, I can smell the marshmallows beginning to overcook even from up here.  Ciao for now.