Merry Christmas from the Family!

Meg has just about had it! She missed baking cookies and making Holy Mole Pecans this week, her usual pre-Christmas activity. She finds cooking therapeutic, but this year it more of a Carl Jung collective unconscious kind of feel, as in “wasn’t I in this mess the last time I moved“?

Moving may have prevented her from her usual turn in the kitchen, but she managed to put together this cute little card:

Meg is going to be spending the holiday week back in Boston at her sister’s house. Ain’t Miss Beehaven, her Mom, the kids and all the gang will be partaking of a beef tenderloin and other goodies, and then they will have a pajama party that night with more cocktails and the rest of the cookies Santa didn’t eat.

Meg is wishing all of her readers and bloggie friends a Very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! See you back here in 2013 for more madcap adventures!

Where I Interrupt Your Holiday With a Public Service Announcement.

Meg unpacking is going swell, and by swell, it means her feet are swollen and puffy. No matter, she’ll survive and be back in her saddle pronto (Ha! Look at her cracking all these Texas jokes already!)

Meg would like to interrupt her house duties and holiday preparations for a brief PSA:

Meg cannot even imagine how shattered the community of Newtown, Connecticut is.

Oh wait, she can imagine.

Here is her beautiful niece:

Meg’s niece was on campus when the Virginia Tech shooting occurred. For many hours that day, we did not know where she was, or if she was alive. It was her freshman year. Thereafter, she lived off campus and accelerated her classes to graduate early and get the heck out of there.

Here is Gabby Giffords:

Meg’s blogger friend Suzi, who writes so eloquently over at The Burrow was a shooting victim in Tucson. Suzi was accompanied by the beautiful, young 9 year old Christina Taylor Smith, who perished on that sunny Southwest morning. They were just trying to meet their congresswoman and teach Christina about American government. Instead, they were riddled with bullets.

Meg finds it astounding she knows several people who were at the scenes of horrific massacres; ones where automatic weapons were unleashed by mentally ill people. Is it becoming commonplace to expect your friends and loved ones to come under fire at the most innocuous of places? Is nowhere sacred?

Meg knows this: Those types of guns only have a place on a battlefield. Let’s not let our country disintegrate into one, shall we? Check out Demand A Plan and see how you can help end gun violence.

Where Being Next to a Pink Cowgirl Hat Pays Off.

Meg has landed in Texas, and today she slept in til’ 8am and finally shaved her legs. Yep, that was the thing she wanted to do the most this morning after a 10 day stretch of no sleep, a 2000 mile drive, and innumerable bad hair days.

She left her lovely home (and THAT will be a story for another day), and spent her first night on the road with her sister Ain’t Miss Beehavin. She cooked the family a nice dinner, gave her bed up and fed them beers til the wee hours of the morning. Thanks, Bee!

The next day the family began their journey in earnest, leaving at noon and managing to make it to Wilmington, Delaware by nightfall. There, after a completely unsatisfying meal at a Ruby Tuesday’s they hit the sheets in their heinous hotel room, promptly awoke at 6 a.m. and bolted, making their way to Virginia.

There, they bunked down with their brother and sister in law for several days, and again, Meg will write a longer story about THAT visit at a later date. That Sunday, they wove their way through the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia, where Meg enjoyed the scenery and the twang of all the gas station workers where she bought her Starbucks double shot energy drinks.

They cruised by the Natural Bridge in Southwest Virginia:

Meg also enjoyed the scenery of Tennessee; the Smoky Mountains called out to her:

It’s Davy Crockett’s birthplace!

And lookie here, it’s Butcher Holler, where Loretta Lynn was born:

Alas, Meg saw none of these sights; the family had an aggressive schedule, and Meg was only left to dream about the quirky spots she wanted to enjoy.

The last leg of the trip included a tip from a waitress named Cat, who said she kept a bottle of Visine in her pocket for pesky customers (apparently it’s also a laxative)!, and then a mind numbing drive across northern Arkansas, which Meg hopes never to experience again.

Right now she has her trusty laptop set up at an Embassy Suites while waiting to close on the new family abode. She is schwinging emails, making calls, and she even managed to put together her Christmas card this morning.

She also went Christmas shopping next door at Bass Pro World. Don’t laugh, it was the only place she could walk to. They had ladies sportswear; she got a few tops and she got her brother in law a gift card. While waiting in line, there was a pink cowgirl hat on
a counter. A hunky cowboy pulled up behind Meg, tapped her on the shoulder and said “maam is this your hat?“. Smiling and replying no, Meg said “hmm, no. I think I’d look a little silly with that“. He grinned and said, “well I thought it might be for your niece. I mean, there’s no way you could have grandkids. Surely you aren’t more than 26, now are you maam?

Well, if there were ever a time a pink cowgirl hat came in handy, this was it. Meg spirits were lifted and she was thinking of her single friends and how it could really pay off to go to Bass Pro World. And accidentally stand next to a pink cowgirl hat.

So Long, Farewell…

auf Wiedersehen, Goodnight.

You know that song from the Sound of Music where the kids all sing for the guests as they troop on up to bed?

That’s Meg this morning. She’s wandering through her increasingly empty house, and that tune is running through her head.
That and Edelweiss.

Hopefully her favorite spot to sit will live on in her memory; and a new sunny spot will take it.

And in a few days, maybe Meg won’t feel like she’s fleeing Austria against her will. Wish her luck this week as she hops into a rented SUV and leaves the motherland.