Stuck in November

My brain is stuck in November. Specifically, November 23, when Jesse and I drove to UNH to pick up Jason. There was a heavy storm warning the night before/day of our scheduled departure, but the Granite State (unlike the Beehive State) is much more conscientious about plowing major thoroughfares, so we made it to Bethlehem just fine.  

and our feline friends awaited us and our shoes,

and we cooked 90% of the food ourselves (unlike last year’s Thanksgiving in a Box)—apple pies, pumpkin cobbler, honey ham, French onion green beans, roasted yams, mashed potatoes, etc., etc. and I got to be in charge, instead of just showing up and sitting around, and I didn’t burn anything, or set the smoke alarm off, AND, a challah appeared in the mailbox on Thanksgiving morning, so I didn’t have to make bread, because I don’t make bread,  

and we watched old movies,

and Poe—the cat—didn’t steal all the toilet paper out of the bathroom,

and everyone critiqued my crappy first draft of No More Ugly Pajamas! and said nice things that made me think I could finish the book, which is probably the main reason I’m still stuck in November,

and everything was perfect,

because we were in a place where people love us best,

and are happy just to hear our voices and the sounds of our laughter floating to the top of the vaulted ceilings in the house at 247 Hazen Rd.

Cinder is really EXCITED to see us. But it's hard to tell because he's 13 in human years. That's 75 in cat years.

But he still acts like a 6-month-old cat.

And he likes Jesse. Or maybe just the texture of his pants.

Real food! As opposed to fake food!

After dinner game of Citadels. I just got robbed and assassinated!

I don't know what's going on here. This is just here to make Jesse feel better about losing at checkers.

I'm trying not to feel Scroogey now that it's December, and I still haven't done my Christmas shopping, and all I want to do is eat fake food that will kill me--like Ramen Noodles.