The First Five Minutes of Finding Nemo = Bambi-level Trauma

Another Thanksgiving come and gone. I wish I had something exciting to report, but other than eating two huge meals within an hour of each other, not much happened. Luckily, nobody mentioned the phantom boyfriend I mentioned in passing the last time I talked to my grandmother, so I held it together just fine. My brother, my cousin and my grandfather nearly got into a fight about the merits (or demerits) of Honda Civics.

Brother: Civics suck. They don't get the gas mileage that people think they do. It's only like 17 miles per gallon.
Cousin: No, it's about 21.
Brother: No, it's like 17.
Cousin: I know the stats on my own car.
Grandfather: The Civic is a good car...
Brother: No, it kind of su--
Grandfather: Don't argue with your Grandfather!

Ah, family.
Thanksgiving found me misting up while my Mom and I watched Finding Nemo on ABC after A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving ended. I was in a horrible mood-- every jewelry commercial, every mother holding a kid, every family gathering made me feel lonely and angry by turns. My Mom hugged me, saying she'd talk if I wanted to, but she didn't want to upset me on a holiday. Just having my Mom hug me, and resting my chin on her head made me feel better.
So I woke up on Friday and went shopping. I love my sleep more than a doorbuster sale, so I didn't get out until about 11am, and I went until about 5pm before I went home for a great Thanksgiving dinner sandwich. As sad as it is, shopping really improved my mood. I guess it's feeling a sense of accomplishment when I stack the entire dining room table with bags full of stuff, which is shallow and shows how deep consumerism has its talons in my neck.
Sunday I babysat. Which was fun. The kids I've known since they were three and a half and a year and a half are such school-aged kids now. The girl (seven) drags her brother (five) around on her back, the baby giggling and chasing them around with her increasingly steady run. The girl says "These are baby songs" when her brother wants to listen to a Winne the Pooh tape. It's hard to know what to do with all of them now (before heating the water in a Coke can and rapidly cooling it in cold water to make it crinkle would be good enough) but it's amazing to see how their personalities have developed into little adults. The baby even managed to call me "Amy" once, but returned to calling me "Dad" when I was on my way out.
But now it's back to work, and back to my life in the city. It's fun around the holidays. I get to plan a party, write out Christmas cards and make a Christmas list (the one time when begging for stuff is encouraged). And bake the best cookies in the world.