The Albuquerque Olsons flew solo this Thanksgiving and it was a very relaxing and lovely holiday. My brain appears to still be a little broken from not sleeping for 48 hours during Sullivan's cold this past week (I washed my hands with toothpaste and messed up a recipe several times over... but we'll get back eventually). Despite the lack of cognitive togetherness, our meal came together well and it was a great day of eating, watching football, and resting.
Our day started with a whole lot of attitude.
Apparently he just needed to be put to work.
Observing.
I decided Thanksgiving morning was the perfect day for my first run in over a year (don't ask what the hell is wrong with me, I already disclosed that my brain is broken).
Asher aiding in some dynamic stretching.
Me and fitness don't get along. I ran about two blocks before saying (out loud) to myself "Well this is stupid." It took about two hours for my lungs to stop burning and I am pretty sure something is legitimately wrong with my right knee. Which makes me feel both old and like the universe is telling me I don't have to ever run again. Ever again.
True love: I can't eat any of it, but made my family the cheesiest, butteriest, milkiest scalloped potatoes. While drooling.
Asher helping with the fig cranberry mish mash. By "helping" I mean he kept eating all the figs.
Observing.
Hello Sullivan.
Dimply, eyebrow-y scowly face. Hmph.
Cheers!
Harlan found something under Sully.
Sparkling cider. The actual dinner never stood a chance.
We went Jewish this year, corned beef slow cooked for eight hours.
Goodness gracious. We will never do turkey again.
Thanksgiving Cheers-ing.
Thanksgiving is hard.
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