Thanks for Asking

Wow, Thanksgiving is over! That, of course, means that Christmas is almost here. Are you ready? With Papa Bear’s layoff we’ve decided to cancel the present aspect of Christmas (except for the Make Merry Swap, of course!), and I have to say I’m a little relieved. Don’t worry, the kids will get a few things from grandparents, and I’ve promised them lots of cookies and cider and camping out on the living room floor under a beautiful (albeit fake) tree. Yes, I know, we live in the mountains and we have a fake tree. This is pretty much the only thing I have ever won about in my marriage. I’ll have to tell you the story sometime this season.

Did you go away for Thanksgiving this year, or did you stay home and host? For the past few years I have planned and planned and then felt a little gypped when the whole thing was over so fast. But not this year. This year I didn’t plan. Seriously. No post-it notes. No recipes. Nada. That doesn’t mean that planning wasn’t done, it just means it wasn’t done by me. Ha.

But we still ate like kings (even though I can only take credit for the turkey and the pumpkin pies). And I still don’t have pictures (apparently I do not like taking pictures of people stuffing their faces). The leftovers are already gone though, which kinda makes me wish I had planned.

We had a good Thanksgiving. And that’s really saying something considering we crammed my entire family in our living room and kitchen and then managed to cover every controversial topic known to man (we’re a fun, fun crowd).

I think my highlight of the day happened just as the tryptophan was mixing with the red wine. My brother’s shoes were off and sis-in-law was having none of his toe-picking ritual. I was proofing the contest post, and my dad was rocking in our recliner, scheming his next move in an attempt to take sarcasm to heights never before reached by mankind.

“What’s their last name?” he said.

“Vowell,” I answered.

“Bowel?”

“No,” I slowed, “V-o-well.”

“Oh, cool. I would have named my kids a, e, i, o, u, and sometimes v and w.”

V and W?!?” we erupted.

“I mean Y and W,” he corrected.

“No, just Y,” the younger generation laughed and mocked.

“What do you want to bet?” he said.

“An enormous, steaming pile of pride,” I answered without a moment of hesitation.

Just then my mom (an elementary teacher and trained phonetics expert) came walking down the stairs (unlike the rest of us, she maintains her energy level and is apparently tryptophan resistant).

“Honey, aren’t Y and W used as vowels?”

“Just Y, she answered, but I have heard of that before with W.”

“Mom, don’t encourage him!” we protested.

Then, I Googled “W as a vowel”. I was immediately concerned when Google filled in my search for me, but I pressed on. After all, there was a looming amount of pride at risk.

Today, I’m a little short on pride. And I’m pretty sure my dad will be gloating for many Thanksgivings to come. Because, according to the Grammar Girl…

“…though its not mentioned as often as “y.” Both of these letters are consonants only at the beginning of a syllable. Let “w” sneak inside a syllable and become part of a diphthong (more on that later), and it becomes a vowel.”

Darn.

Tonight we polished off the rest of the turkey in a wonderful soup that my mom made last night (she left today). She did most of the cooking while she was here while I lay around doing nothing and completely taking advantage of her presence. Actually, the only thing I cooked or baked today was a pan of cornbread to go with the soup. And I was too lazy to even look up a recipe (which was actually for the best because my guess-ipe turned out much better than the last corn bread I made).

I’m working on another post, but I didn’t want you all to think we had skipped Thanksgiving! I hope yours was wonderful too (and I hope you still have leftovers).

By the way, Merry Christmas!

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