Happy Thankspinning!

As an alternative to the extensive preparation for the Thanksgiving meal, I am going to institute a new tradition for the Lackey family.  It's a little thing I like to call Thankspinning.

We will all gather 'round in the living room during the halftime of the Redskins VS Cowboys game (RG3!  RG3!  RG3!) with laptops and iPads.  I'll light a "Baking Turkey" scented candle.  Alan will say a blessing.  Then, we'll dig into our  deli turkey sandwiches served up on lap trays.

During the half time feast, we'll all navigate to the Pinterest site on our personal computing devices, search "Thanksgiving," then start pinning what our virtual Thanksgiving meal could look like.

It'll go like this...

Reed Lackey onto My Mom is Making Me Pin Thanksgiving

Reed Lackey  i want these

Carolyn Lackey  Super cute!  I'll have 3 right now!

Alan Lackey  WW points?

Jonathan Lackey  ugh

Bryce Lackey this is freakin' stupid

Bryce Lackey onto This is Freakin' Stupid
Bryce Lackey these would be great with little Indians made of Poptarts
Reed Lackey id rather have ice cream
Jonathan Lackey ugh...get it?  ugh.
Alan Lackey  humor your mother.  play nice.
Reed Lackey is being humorous the same thing as humoring?
Carolyn Lackey no comment
Jonathan Lackey  it doesn't make sense to post a comment that says
"no comment"

Carolyn Lackey onto Thankful for Thankspinning

Carolyn Lackey Bryce, you sit next to Mimi.  Reed and Jonathan 
sit over there next to Leonard.  Nana, sit next to me.  Alan, please 
serve up that bottle of wine.

Alan Lackey red wine with turkey?
Reed Lackey since I'll be 21 in February...

Carolyn Lackey uh, no.

Bryce Lackey no coment

Bryce Lackey *comment*

Jonathan Lackey no comment

Alan Lackey onto C'mon Boys.  Make Mom Happy.

Alan Lackey who wants white meat

Carolyn Lackey me!  me!  me!

Reed Lackey no comment

Bryce Lackey no coment

Bryce Lackey *comment*

Jonathan Lackey no comment

Reed Lackey onto My Mom is Making Me Pin Thanksgiving

Reed Lackey that's what i'm talkin about

Carolyn Lackey shut up and eat your sandwich

Carolyn Lackey onto Thankful for Thankspinning

Carolyn Lackey who wants pie!?

Alan Lackey WW pts?

Reed Lackey no comment

Bryce Lackey no coment

Bryce Lackey *comment*

Jonathan Lackey no comment

Reed Lackey onto My Mom is Making Me Pin Thanksgiving

Reed Lackey meow meOW meow meow

Alan Lackey soft kitty warm kitty little ball of fuuuuuur

Bryce Lackey happy kitty sleepy kitty

Jonathan Lackey purr purr purr

Carolyn Lackey no comment.  i'm just going to give you 

"the look." \:-(

Jonathan Lackey onto Ugh

Jonathan Lackey thankspinning music?

Bryce Lackey sweet!

Reed Lackey sweet!

Carolyn Lackey THAT IS NOT SWEET!

Alan Lackey half time is over!

Jonathan Lackey thankful

Bryce Lackey lol me too

Reed Lackey are we gonna have a Pinmas dinner

One last pin from me to you...

Happy, happy Thanksgiving.  I am thankful for your friendship.

Becoming Meems: Psychedelic Dreams

The Meems has always had a very active dream life that she just LOVES to talk about each and every morning.  Picture me, young me, with 2 hungry toddlers underfoot clamoring for pancakes.  There I'd be mixing up some Bisquick while a griddle heated on the stove.  Three-year-old Jonathan would be pulling a kitchen chair to the pantry on a wild hunt for maple syrup while two-year-old Bryce squeaked, "Mommy, izzit gonna be much longa?!"  Then, RING...RING...RING!!!  With my third hand I'd answer the phone because there was no caller ID to politely warn me.

Me [sounding distracted and, perhaps, a bit irritable with the corded receiver balanced precariously between my chin and shoulder]:  Hello!

Meems:  Guess what I dreamed last night!  I bet you'll never guess!

Me [sounding more distracted and, perhaps, a bit more irritable with the corded receiver balanced precariously between my chin and shoulder]:  Uhhh, I'm kinda busy making pancakes.  Can you hear the boys?  They are really hungry.

Meems:  Oh!  Well...I won't be but a minute.  I dreamed that everywhere I went people kept giving me babies [baby themes recur in her dreams with great regularity].  I was wearing a new dress, and I didn't want to get it dirty.  But, they kept handing me babies.

Me:  That sounds interesting.  Did the babies want pancakes?  Cause I'm living that dream right now.

Meems:  No.  They just all wanted me to hold them.  And, I really liked my new dress.  It was pink with a green belt.  My shoes and purse were green, too.  I got them on sale at a really nice store! I sure didn't want to get baby spit-up on that dress!  Well, that's all!  Bye!

Me:  Uh, bye!

For most of my life, I haven't been able to recall many of my dreams.  Oh, I've had some doozies. Mostly about flying.  In a pickle if I was being chased by neighborhood ruffians, all I had to do was run at a full tilt boogie while flapping my little arms, and off I'd go into the air flying just above the evil-doers.  "Ha HA!  I may be seven, but I can fly!!  I can FLY!"  I'd soar free as a bird - weightless and peaceful.  I just love flying.

This morning as I was showering, I recalled my vivid dream from the early morning hours just after Alan kissed me before heading out the door to work.  It was one of those technicolor, fantastical dreams that looks reality in the face and scoffs, "Ha!  I've got her in the palm of my hand!  She thinks that this mansion with it's tunnels and turrets and talking monkeys is where she lives when she's not flapping her arms across the ocean to meet a movie star for lunch in Paris!"

Today's early morning dream combined three recurring themes:  Flying, mansions, and...well...peeing.  And, oh, was it real.

Alan took Mom and me for a ride on his new inflatable airplane that looked very much like an extra large pool float.  We all sat atop it's slippery vinyl fuselage with Alan in front somehow controlling the thing.  I was in the middle riding side-saddle with bits of the plane pinched tightly between my fingertips and my legs dangling precariously over the sides.  Mom was in back with her arms wrapped around me in a industrial-strength vise grip.  My hair was whipping against my face stinging my cheeks.  Mom was yammering loudly in my ear about being ready to head back to Raider Ranch.

After a great while, Alan landed the plane next to a huge mansion in Mexico.  In the pool.  Our clothes got soaking wet and became very, very heavy.  The senora of the house invited us in so that we might put on dry clothes.  She gave Alan and Mom clothes very similar to those they had been wearing.  Then, she turned to me and said, "I have nothing for you other than this lace tablecloth.  Perhaps you can fashion it into a dress."

So, there I was.  Standing buck nekked in the middle of a Mexican mansion holding a lace tablecloth around myself like a beach towel.  All of a sudden, I realized that I really, really needed to pee.  So, I wandered through the corridors in search of a powder room.  I opened a door that lead into a huge industrial-looking warehouse-type room [like the one I saw in last night's rerun of Extreme Homes on HGTV - the guy lived in an abandoned military silo - below ground].  There in the center of this cavernous space was...you guessed it...a toilet.

My bladder was rupturing within my abdomen as I stared at that toilet.  For the life of me, I couldn't make myself pee in such a wide open space.  I spent several long moments shifting from foot to foot considering my options (one of which was heading back to the pool, and I'm not too proud to admit it).  I just had to make the toilet area more, well, private.  So, I did what I had to do.  I parked four cars around it creating my own private powder room.  I can't even begin to describe the relief I felt when I finally took a seat and "relaxed."  Ahhhhhhhhhh.  Then, I heard someone thunking around on one of my "walls."  On top of the car parked behind me stood Brad Pitt.  The Legends of the Fall Brad Pitt (before he went kind of crazy).   "Hey, what's happening down there?!" he asked.  "Just peeing," I replied hoping that he could not see my belly fat through the lace tablecloth.

It was then that I woke up.  Like...BOOM!  AWAKE!!  And, I needed to pee.  But what did I do?  I first felt the sheets to make sure that I hadn't "lived my dream."  That's what we early morning pee dreamers do.  We feel the sheets.  And, every single time we're surprised to find that they are still warm and dry.

Here's the part where Meems would insert an "And, to think! You dreamed about flying and peeing, and didn't wet the bed!"  Well, bully for me, Meems.  Bully for me.  

I was actually kinda glad to see Legends of the Fall Brad Pitt.

Channeling My Inner Gigi

At the ripe old age of 55, a couple of things are troubling:

1. I can't remember squat.  
2. I'm very uncoordinated.  

Before you suggest that I may have had a stroke, let me explain it in relative terms.  I grew up dancing.  As a child I took "modern dance" from Miss Rhea in Carthage.  I was a drill team girl in high school.  I took ballet and tap during my college years.  I'm tellin' ya.  This girl could dance.    I am no stranger to the step-ball-change.  Now, I trip over both of my left feet.

I came up with the idea that I would be less coordinated if I started doing Zumba.  To exercise the body is to exercise the mind!  My general apathy about fitness steers me from gyms with their weights and power classes.  I needed something fun and inspiring.  There is NO WAY I would participate in a public Zumba class.  No.  Way.  So, I went in search of fun fitness on none other than YouTube.  That's where I found Gigi.  Zumba Gigi.

Gigi, from Boca Raton, has thick long black locks and wears a black fedora.  I would describe her style as urban hip-hop with a 6 pack of chiseled abs thrown in.  In this video she appears at 00:09 wearing a white hoodie trimmed with white fur and a black fedora.   All I could think about was whether or not she would sweat like a pig or simply glisten like a princess.  She glistened.

I stood this morning in my living room between two chairs and the couch wearing Nike shorts and the t-shirt I wore yesterday that was still on the floor of the bathroom this morning.  My hair was and still is wild and sleepy.  This was my 3rd "class" with Gigi.  During the first session, I was transfixed by Gigi's smooth moves - the subtle, relaxed movements of her arms, the effortless wiggle of her hips, the way she gracefully arranges her fedora with the tips of her fingers.

Gigi doesn't bellow out cues like "Grapevine!!" and "Punching Bag!"  She gracefully gestures with one hand signaling go this way or that.  During the class, she moves around the dancers pulling this lady and that up to the front to show off their Samba moves or Bollywood hip thrusts.  Gigi dances like she's at a Joy Festival Street Dance.  I want that.  I want to dance at Gigi's Joy Festival Street Dance.

Last Monday, I set a goal.  I'm going to learn all of the dance steps of Gigi's 49:47 workout. C'mon, Carolyn!  You can do it!  Isn't most of it just combinations of box steps and step-ball-changes?  How hard can this be?  Remember how you danced the Bump in high school and moved with the groove of the Electric Slide?!  You got this!

Today, I shortened my short term goal.  I'm going to try to just master the footwork of each dance.  I'm going to pause and rewind until I get it right.  What I really wish is that you could come over and "Gigi" with me.  Arms and legs would be flailing.  We'd crash into each other grapevine-ing around the ottoman.  Our belly dance moves would have our bellies wiggling long after Gigi moved on to a Samba.  It would be a great ab workout because we would be rolling on the floor laughing until our stomach muscles cried "Uncle!"

I wish that we could watch Gigi's class together in my living room with Classic Cokes and a big barrel of buttered popcorn.  I would love to have an ear to bend with my color commentary.  There's Amazing-Shiny-Short-Hair Girl [38:50] whose hair has a life of its own.  I've named her Casey because she reminds me of my friend named Casey.  I swear that her lustrous tresses get a better workout than I do.  Swing!  Swing, Swiiiiiish!  Oh, see the lady in the blue yoga pants and yellow top there in the back?  She's my girl!  Cindy is her name.  My short term goal is to dance at least as well as her.  In one of the many Gigi youtube videos is my favorite girl, Meloyde, joyous, enthusiatic, Meloyde.  Pronounced "me-loyd."  [My XO "Go Purple" sisters will know who she reminds me of!]  Meloyde is the master of the walk and wiggle [22:22]. 

I must run to the hip-hop store at the mall to find some of those pants that have ribbons dangling down from the hip pockets and knees and a little hot pink yoga bra.  The right clothes will bring me one step closer to becoming Gigi.  I may even invest in a long, black wig and a fedora.  I WILL learn how to walk and wiggle.  Whatever it takes.  Whatever it takes.