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It’s like a bad boyfriend. One that you love to hate. You break up, you get back together. You say “enough” and kick him out and then you’re begging him to come back. “Please, just stay another hour…I love you, really I do.” And he keeps throwing new twists and turns at you – keeps you on your toes. And you go a few days without him and go through withdrawal. And you know it’s wrong, but you always want more.

Oh Season Three, where are you?

While Katy is worried about the blast radius this Thanksgiving, I’m more worried about eternal boredom. I’m spending it with the same group of people as last year (or was it two years ago? I don’t remember) – an occasion, whenever it was, the highlight of which was a rousing game of Balderdash. Now I enjoy making up definitions as much as the next English major/wannabe librarian/OED-phile, but that doesn’t quite meet my standards of witty banter and like-minded company.

The first issue: dessert. Rumor has it that only store-bought pies will be provided. Although I have not been officially charged with this task, I take it upon myself in the spirit of service to the greater good: I must bake. But what must I bake, internets?

The second, and perhaps (you might never hear me put anything above dessert ever again) more important issue: company. My family is going over the river, through the woods, past some farms, over the highway, past a stripmall, across another river and through the city of Boring (about a 40 minute drive) to spend the blessed day with my mom’s friend and her family. And another family from church. I love my mom’s friend. Everyone else is nice enough. But there is no one to talk to. There are some teenage girls. Some teenage boys. My mom will be busy keeping my dad from spewing inappropriate stories. My sister – oh sorrow of sorrows – has to work. WHY?

If I were ten, or even fifteen, and saw this situation approaching, I would bring a book. And read at the table.

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Okay, cast your minds back a few hours…imagine that it is Tuesday and I posted my self portrait in time. Because I really wanted to, and I would’ve if my camera had cooperated and allowed the pictures to download. But no, it had a hissy fit. Onward!

In the spirit of actually trying to follow November’s theme – exploration of identity. So there I am, writing. Perhaps appropriately, the page is blank. Infer what you will. But there is the pen, and the page, and my hand.

And do you have any idea how difficult it is to try and take a picture with your non-dominant hand while also trying to write? Posted by Picasa

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