(Okay, mysterious Portuguese reader, here is an update...)
We spent the Thanksgiving weekend with my sister, brother-in-law, and nephew at the Whining Bull Ranch in Baird, TX. Dad and Pansy came for a little while, but concern over the weather found them heading home early. All in all the weekend was totally uneventful - which is exactly the way I hoped it would be. We didn't venture out much. Too cold and wet.
We did the usual Thanksgiving stuff. We ate. We talked. We ate. We watched football. We sat around like bums while the kids entertained one another. The women watched the men take over the kids' video games. We ate. We napped. We gossiped. We fought over the last of the dessert.
We did a few things that are not so usual for us. We watched snow fall in November. We fed cows. We worried over one of the ranch cats that returned from her walk-about with a terrible bite wound. We marveled at how well-behaved the children where while being couped up in the house for days straight.
And we went to see a movie. That's not the unusual part. While we were at the mall waiting for the flick to start, we watched a guy dressed like Captain Jack Sparrow stagger around and let kids choose treats from his treasure chest while their parents selected "angels" from the Salvation Army Angel Tree. It was all kinds of messed up. I searched the memory banks for the Legend of the Christmas Pirate, but I came up with nothing.
I remember that one year my girlfriend Melinda received a pirate Christmas ornament from a buddy. We got a good chuckle out of it then. But now I feel like I have been missing out on some really important swashbuckling holiday lore. Would someone please fill me in?
Sis tells me that my nephew has been lamenting the departure of his cousins with the following wail - "Kids are GONE!"
I hope everyone had a nice, relaxing holiday weekend. And I also hope everyone gained more weight than I did. You'll need the energy reserves to get you through the Christmas rush, of course.