And Then I Lost My Balance and Accidentally Breathed Wine-breath In Her Face

So Thanksgiving went off without a hitch. I think there were about fifty people crammed into my grandmother's house. We had to set up a dining hall in the garage, because that's the only room in the house that could fit us all at once without the removal of large furniture pieces. I think we forgot to serve the cranberry chutney that took my aunt two hours to make, and we forgot to set out the rolls so they could rise in time for baking, but whatever. I made a birthday cake (four on one day!) that will go down in history as the Greatest Cake Ever, and the baby was a huge hit, so that's all that matters.

Pops made it to Texas in the same amount of time it took for me to drive it, but he got off to a later start than he had originally planned, and arrived at my sister's house with just enough time to shower and go to San Antonio for the holiday festivities. In all, he was awake for about 40 hours straight (from waking on Wednesday morning to pack and then drive over eighteen hours from Florida, and then give thanks with the family and drive back to Austin Thursday night), so he is now, and ever shall be, known as The Man. But he's back, and he's safe, and he brought me my girl dog, who had herself a small hernia upon seeing me again for the first time yesterday.

So now Florida is over. Officially. Everything is Texas, as far as we are concerned.

I do have a small confession, however. I was functionally drunk in front of my family yesterday (I only emptied my wine glass twice, but I topped off a low glass more times than I can count on both hands. Whoopsy!), though I think I just seemed happy to those who don't know me as intimately as my sister. But she totally called me out on it when I stumbled up to her with some huge revelation that I can't even remember now. She was all, "You're drunk!" And I was all, "Nuh-uhh! I'm not drunk, YOU'RE DRUNK." Which is sooooo something a drunk would say.