It was the eve before Thanksgiving, and all through the condo,Loverpants and I were rummaging around for winter woolies to wear for our Turkey trot in the morning. We were all manner of PUMPED for our 5 mi and 2 mi races respectively, and Loverpants was all poised to push the pram (with baby bundled warmly within, natch).

But he and I were both snarfing away through congested noses. And making coughing noises, throwing our whole bodies into it like Muppets with emphysema. I don't know why I'm writing this in poetic verse. It's really just a silly narrative about how Loverpants got paged and only got a few hours of sleep and I was snarfing away all night and resigned to Nyquilling myself at about midnight, so we both woke up with hangovers, he with a Worked All Night hangover, and I with a Nyquil hangover. So we didn't race afterall. Instead we sort of tended to the babe in shifts. Loverpants and Baby Girl read books, played with blocks, talked a lot of smack about the Turkey Trot next year. Mama napped. Mama gets up. Feeds Baby Girl, read books, played with blocks, spit some verse about the awesomeness of Thanksgiving carbs.

All the while Loverpants was preparing a luscious bird per usual. I am really proud of him, he is a really talented cook. We went over to some dear friends' for supper and everyone was back home and nestled in their beds by a decent hour. How blessed and how stuffed we are!


P.S. Did you know that it's a wonderful life?

Scan the picture with the bell shape and see what it reveals...

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