Thanksgiving went well. With all the landmines we could have stepped on, we didn’t. No one did. It was mellow, the food was good. The company was pleasant. And despite dire warnings from the weather people, it didn’t snow. A bit of drizzle, but it stayed warm enough to not become ice.
Now, it’s the final lap to Christmas and the New Year. Which is easier for me, especially since what little shopping I do (other than wrapping paper which is always my last purchase), is done. There’s a miniature tree waiting for me in the attic, all dressed up just needing to be uncovered and set in place.
Just a few pictures from yesterday. Taken before dinner, so everyone was less sated — and sleepy — as they would be after consuming the big ham, the lamb, and all those lovely trimmings.
We left relatively early. The dogs needed feeding and I was much more tired than the amount of effort I had put into the day seemed to warrant. I’m not sure why, not even today. Owen did 95% of the work, so why was I exhausted? I often think the anticipation of events and the emotional effort we put into trying to make sure everything goes well is as tiring — more tiring? — than physical work. Even “good” stress is stress.