Gobble gobble

A happy Thanksgiving to all that are directly and indirectly a part of my life. Each year I am increasingly thankful for what we have and for those that offer such amazing support and love. And now a story about the turkeys that tried to ruin Thanksgiving...

We live in an area that wild turkey roam. We joke each year about making one a part of our feast. These groups can be as large as 25 hens with their toms and juniors in full strut twice daily making their way across our yard. It's quite a scene. Sometimes they get startled or thrown off track and flown into a panic, clumsily flapping into the nearest tree, rooftop, or fence. At 9:30 am, as I was just about to pop our 23 pound turkey into the oven, the power went out. For over an hour, we had the turkey on standby in the BBQ, crossing our fingers that our alternative cooking solution wouldn't last the entire process. Just after 10:30, I breathed a sigh of relief that our power returned. At 2:00, as family and friends started to arrive, one of our friends noted a huge gaggle of turkeys making their way up the road. "They got spooked and a few flew right into the power lines!" He exclaimed. Rick responds with, "we'll they aren't the smartest creatures." Fast forward to today when on the phone with my girlfriend that lives a few miles away, also hosting Thanksgiving that day. "Did your power go out?" I inquired. "Yes. And boy do I have a funny story about that..." She proceeds to tell me that as her husband was returning from getting their turkey, he witnessed a separate flock fly into some power lines, sparks flying. A few seconds later, no power. So he calls the electric company and proceeds to tell him he knows the location on the power failure and why, explaining that it's is really not a prank call. So I wonder, are those creatures really as dumb as we think? Maybe they had a plan on this day.

By the way, our turkey actually came out quite perfect, despite the initial change of course! Thankfully.

Transitional three

I am sitting outside of Ava's new class, trying to focus on something other than the sound of her intermittent crying bridged by whimpering. She started a new program, basically structured as a preschool with focus on speech and occupational therapy. This program doesn't allow parents to participate, which makes for a very unhappy girl. She tries to hold it together, likes the idea of going to school, but as we enter the double doors, she immediately starts to fall apart. I try to hold it together, say all the right things, but once she goes into class and the door shuts, I am exhausted. If she is like I was (she is) this could go on for awhile. We both want her old school structure back, but life is one transition to the next and that is that.

We are transitioning to 3. Even though it was Ava's birthday 2 weeks ago, she still tells you she is two and a half. I still feel like she is two and a half. I wonder if I will ever adjust to the fact that she really was born in October. Couldn't we pretend she wasn't a micro premie, that she was born in January? Couldn't we save October for sorrow and loss? I suppose one day, one year it will start to feel right. Will it? 

We had our traditional balloon remembrance on the girls birthday. We added one more this year because my grandpa Jack passed away that very day. 

What is also becoming a tradition is that Ava tends to get a severe cold around her birthday, and plans were again put in a holding pattern for her birthday celebration. Too many coincidences to not take notice. But we had a nice small celebration for Ava, more her style anyway. She's not a big fan of being around a lot of people, loud music, a lot of distractions. And that's OK, because it just doesn't seem fitting anyway.