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gobble gobble giggle

Yes, I ate too much.

Every year my family drives up to have Thanksgiving dinner with my mother's extended family. It's about a two-hour drive, and my dad always insists on taking the back roads. This year we took two cars, since we would be rather cramped in my parents' sedan. I drove Dexter, following my parents.

My littlest sister, who is in driver training, drove my parents' car. It was frustrating following her, because she drove about 5 miles per hour under the speed limit. Sometimes she would slow down to 10 below. It was so hard not to pass her. (But if I did I would get lost, because I don't know the winding back road way my dad takes.)

Our drive took us through Amish country. The Amish here are fairly liberal compared to other parts of the country, but they still drive their buggies. It makes for a nice slalom: passing the buggies and dodging the horse droppings in the road. We passed a little cart drawn by a pinto pony, driven by two Amish boys. The car in front of my sister apparently spooked the pony, because it swerved left into our lane. My sister jammed on the brakes, narrowly missing the cart. Eek!

Despite their reputation for placid behavior, I've seen Amish teens drag racing their buggies. grin

Ok. Enough about the Amish.

The family and a Rottweiler "puppy" greeted us at the door. Taz, the Rottweiler, is already big. And her paws are huge, which means she still has some growing to do! She was very enthusiastic, nosing everyone and giving us all big wet licks. The other dog, Duchess, is a golden Labrador. She's old, and I was a bit surprised that she was still with us. She spent most of the day sleeping, which was good - Taz was dog enough to handle.

I met my newest second cousin, Steven. He's nine months old, and he still smells "new." You know, that smell that only babies have. Or maybe it's the baby powder. Anyway, Min spent most of the day playing with him. She's only 22, but her biological clock is already ticking. I think someone forgot to wind my clock when I was born. I have no interest whatsoever in having a baby. No interest at all.

Sure, I like kids and stuff. But I'm that really obnoxious relative who plays with your kid, gets him all riled up, and then hands him back to you. Once they get crabby I want nothing to do with them.

People have told me that I'll feel different when I'm older, but I don't think I will. I've felt this way for ten years or so already. I mean, you have to go through nine months of hell being pregnant, squeeze a watermelon-sized object out of an opening the size of a lemon, and then pay for its upkeep for the next eighteen years. (Twenty-two years if you send it to college.) That prospect has absolutely no appeal to me.

Whenever I feel the "baby wonder" come upon me (that feeling of "I wonder what it would be like to have a kid"), I just volunteer to baby-sit someone's two-year-old for a few hours. That makes me realize I am not cut out to be a mother, and I'm satisfied for the next five years.

Of course I got grilled about Dave. "Where's this guy live again?" The women in my mother's family always get excited when there's a new prospect for me or my sister getting married. They love weddings. I really didn't have the heart to tell them that when/if I get married it'll be a tiny little ceremony with no dress and no bridesmaids but with a big party afterwards. Min will be the one with the big wedding.

The drive home was interesting. I thought I knew a faster way to get home, and when I turned on my turn signal for the exit my dad (who was driving) freaked out and came with me. He thought there was something wrong with my car. After I explained it to him we split up. My sister and I got home before my parents, but just barely. And they had an extra stop to make to drop off Min.

But hey... I got there first! Never mind the details.

Anyone want some pie?

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