Thanksgiving is canceled- I'm having a nervous breakdown

So it's been decided that I am personally cooking Thanksgiving dinner this year. Thankfully it's only going to be Superman, me, and the kids. I found out on Thursday that this was happening. Friday I called my mother and related to her that I have never made Turkey Day dinner, and I've never had the urge to. She laughed. She also laughed when I asked if I could keep all that stuff in the "cavity" of the bird, when I asked how bad it would be if I just ordered that Cajun turkey from KFC, and also when I asked if she would just cook dinner and then mail it to me.


Here's what I don't think she understands. Superman's mother is a cook. And I don't mean she cooks well (she does), but that she used to do it for a living. At a million star restaurant in Austin. Like, really. So while I grew up on burned Hamburger Helper, he grew up on gourmet meals. The only thing my poor mama can make really well is white gravy, and then you have to eat it with burned womp biscuits (for those of you who are uninformed those are canned biscuits). So, while I consider myself a decent cook because I can cook lots of stuff without burning it, compared to my mother-in-law I'm a kitchen virgin. We are going to her house on Wednesday, so on Thanksgiving I get to try and live up to what she accomplished the day before, and I suppose if all else fails we can try and raid her 'fridge for left overs. I'm an expert left over maker. To make matters worse Superman talks about Supermom's cooking all the time, but especially about Supermom's cooking on Thanksgiving and Christmas. Apparently she makes some sort of herb brined Superturkey. I don't think even Foodnetwork.com can help me out here. I think I know now why the suicide/homicide rate jumps over the holidays. Women who can't make mashed 'taters like moms, so we either want to kill ourselves, or our men. HAH! If only it was that easy.

In a fit of craziness I went to Walmart with Superman on Saturday to get the "stuff" I need to cook this disaster of a meal. I told him specifically that I want a 12 pound turkey. It's only going to be the 5 of us, the kids and I aren't all that into turkey anyways, so all I need is 12 pounds. So I go up to the case and start looking. All of a sudden (in a fit of testosterone) Superman pushes me out of the way and declares loudly that "Pickin the turkey is MY* job" *there may have been a fist to chest thump in there somewhere. I say fine, but remember- 12 pounds. And I stupidly left him unattended to find the other things I need.

As I was pondering canned green beans I hear someone gasp "Look at that bird!". I got a really bad feeling and turned to see my fiancé walking down the aisle singing "Surfing Bird" and holding the largest turkey I'd ever seen. It was approximately 87 pounds. It weighed more than my children... (At this point I would like to say that I am exaggerating just a little, the bird is really a whopping 20 pounder)

I put my foot down, hell I put BOTH feet down. There was NO WAY WE WERE GONNA GET THAT D*MN BIRD. The entire time I'm ranting about 20 pound turkeys, and the fact that I could fit the thing on my head and use it as a meat helmet, he's cooing to the bird. He held it tenderly while gazing lovingly at that Butterball package, and I think I heard him sing "You are my Sunshine". Finally I rolled my eyes and he took that as his cue to toss the thing in our cart. Subsequently, I couldn't even push the cart so he had to take over. So here is this giant man pushing a giant turkey around Walmart singing "Don't you know about the bird? Everybody knows about the bird, I said a bird bird bird...". I cannot tell you how proud I was.

When we got home and I rearranged the entire refrigerator to accommodate Big Bird, I realized, I do not have a pan big enough to fit this monstrosity. So now, I gotta buy one or somehow convince Supermom to let me use hers.

Ya'll I'm serious- I think I'm having a nervous breakdown.

OH and also, I won’t even get to relax with my fiancé after the meal because last night I found out that the Giants (AKA THE team) will be playing to Bronco's on Thanksgiving. So it's gonna be turkey and football in our house.

Love

1 Corinthians 13

The Way of Love

1 If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don't love, I'm nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate. 2If I speak God's Word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything plain as day, and if I have faith that says to a mountain, "Jump," and it jumps, but I don't love, I'm nothing. 3-7If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don't love, I've gotten nowhere. So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I'm bankrupt without love.

Love never gives up.
Love cares more for others than for self.
Love doesn't want what it doesn't have.
Love doesn't strut,
Doesn't have a swelled head,
Doesn't force itself on others,
Isn't always "me first,"
Doesn't fly off the handle,
Doesn't keep score of the sins of others,
Doesn't revel when others grovel,
Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
Puts up with anything,
Trusts God always,
Always looks for the best,
Never looks back,
But keeps going to the end. 8-10Love never dies. Inspired speech will be over some day; praying in tongues will end; understanding will reach its limit. We know only a portion of the truth, and what we say about God is always incomplete. But when the Complete arrives, our incompletes will be canceled.

11When I was an infant at my mother's breast, I gurgled and cooed like any infant. When I grew up, I left those infant ways for good.

12We don't yet see things clearly. We're squinting in a fog, peering through a mist. But it won't be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright! We'll see it all then, see it all as clearly as God sees us, knowing him directly just as he knows us!

13But for right now, until that completeness, we have three things to do to lead us toward that consummation: Trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, love extravagantly. And the best of the three is love.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

OK. So I have been thinking about this a lot lately. The items that are in red are things that I have been guilty of doing. And I feel like talking about them, item by item. Forgive me, I am just trying to work some stuff out in my head.

Love never gives up. Ahhh But I have given up. In fact sometimes (most of the time) it is easier for me to just give up.


Love doesn't want what it doesn't have. Well. I think that we are all guilty of this every once in a while. You see a relationship that *seems* perfect and you can't help but compare things. Often times when I am in a relationship I am just FINE, until I see what Suzie down the block has and then I start making comparisons. NOT GOOD. I know I do this. But gosh it sure is hard not too.

Doesn't keep score of the sins of others. I am VERY guilty of this. I think most girls are. I find it so hard to forgive and forget. Plus how gratifying is it to be in a fight and be able to bring up (POINT BY POINT) all the bad sh*t they have done that they should forever be atoning for. You know what the bad part is (besides all of it)? I usually feel pretty guilty when I am doing it, but IT DOESN'T STOP ME! I am trying though. Very hard.

Puts up with anything, trusts God always, always looks for the best, never looks back, but keeps going to the end. I haven't always trusted in God. And I haven't always put up with the things that really shouldn't have been a big issue. Now SOMETHINGS I don't think were included in this, ie abuse in ANY form be it physical, sexual, or emotional.

I'm divorcing my cat, and hey, we are writing a book

That title sounds kinda kinky. Or maybe it's just me. Anyways.

So since we've moved to the new house Trey the cat seems to think that I need him attached to me at all fricking times. If he's not attached to me then he's attached to the heater:

But mostly he's attached to me, so I want to divorce my cat. I think that we have irreconcilable differences. As in, he thinks that he should be my ass warmer, and I think that he should just leave me the hell alone. It's gotten to the point where I have to go to the grocery store to escape him. Kinda like how women with abusive husbands find reasons to stay out of the house and there by avoid getting hit. Except I'm looking for reasons to be out of the house so I can avoid his loud purring and excess amounts of orange fur. So maybe not so much on it being the same. I dunno.

In other news, Audrey and I have decided to write a book together. It'll be like one of those self help thinggys BUT better. And by better we will write about things like:

• The 3 Day Rule- which is something that I made up a long time ago to help you get out of sticky relationships
• Why you should always name your vibrators, and also why it's not good to break them over your best friends boyfriends head, just because he told a stupid joke
• And just generally how to be as cool as us, The Cowboy Killers

We plan on calling it something like The Cowboy Killers Guide to Everything. Now, you may be asking yourselves why we feel qualified to write a book. We aren't. But we are gonna do it anyways, because we are entrepreneurs. Along with the book we also plan on opening a restaurant- Cowboy Killers Heart Attacks... Or something like that. And a sex toy store. And we will offer discounts; like if you spend $50 at the restaurant then you get like 10% off your next dildo purchase. And of course we will sell the book at both venues. See. Entrepreneurs.

You just wish you were as cool as us.

Oh and if you have any stories to share about relationships or you have questions that you need answers to, just email me and we will hook you up. Plus you might get a chance to be in our book.

*Insert witty title here*

Ok, so the title is a work in progress but it's been like 2 months since I've blogged so I guess it's about time I sit my ass down to write something. Anything.
The past 2 months have been CRAZY. And by crazy I mean fucking nuts. We went to PA, saw my bestie and got to show Superman around my hometown. We went back to Charlotte and life as I knew it went to hell in a hand basket, but let's not even go there. Needless to say things are better now, and we are now in a house in Travelers Rest, SC.
Travelers Rest is the armpit of the world a very quaint town. Really. There are lots of horrible great drivers, rednecks lovely people, and NOTHING TO DO wonderful attractions. We did however find a very nice house, that is on the cheap side. The downside is that we moved here on Sunday and on Monday I woke up with the swine flu, which surprisingly, is not as fun as it sounds. I didn't even grow a curly tail or ANYTHING. I think I was jipped. I do however get to listen to lots of Superman's witty quips about bacon. Woot. Thinking that this was not a fair exchange. Anyways.

So as I was saying, the new house is great. Our neighbors leave something to be desired. They are FRICKING CRAZY. Let me tell you about how the guy dresses like he's in the army. All.The.Damn.Time. As in, he wears full out camo and boots and these weird ass sun glasses. His son (the 15 year old neighborhood creepy person) dresses EXACTLY the same. And he giggles. A lot. The wife thinks that she and I are gonna be *bffs*. Riiiiight. She likes to call and drop by to "chat" and we all know how I feel about crap like that. I find myself praying that they will suddenly forget that we live next to them, or that there is even a house next to them. That would make me happy, and if God really does love me, then He will make it so. For some reason I don't think that's gonna happen. :(

Rawr. Whatever, I'm gonna go do something productive, and mebbe I'll get back to this later.