First Thanksgiving Dinner with Just the Charlies.

Charlie & Charlie stayed home this year with Oatie & Bailey. We knew of some people in town, but didn't have any invitations until the day before. Since we have some hermit tendencies we were pretty happy not to have to decide what to do. We thought it would be nice to have our own quiet holiday. Also, we've not had a lot of time alone in our two years together, so when we do, we treasure it.

Though I've been a vegetarian for about eight years now or so, I've never really been into fake meats. One of the reasons I gave up meat was because I didn't really care for it anyway, among other things, and I was trying to go to a healthier lifestyle, which meant that I didn't want uber-processed foods. Occasionally one must break with your values. A national holiday is a good time.

We'd seen the Tofurky roast in the New Seasons ad on sale and decided it was the year to break out the Tofurky. My mom has a long standing love affair (not) with all things tofu, so I go out of my way to harass her about it, even going as far as sending a Tofurky card in the mail to her last year. (I know she loved it secretly.) We did a little research and discovered that Tofurky is made about 60 miles from Portland, in Hood River, OR. The company was founded in 1980 in Forest Grove, OR (where I went to optometry school), and during the first seven years the founder lived in a tree house to save money. Wow. Those people are real hippies!

The dinner was a joint effort- Justin bought a few small sides at New Seasons (green beans, sweet potatoes, and stuffing, so we wouldn't have too many leftovers), Gluhwein (which being the heavy drinkers that we are, never got around to opening) and beeswax candles for the table, as well as a beautiful cheese ball (which we also didn't get to eat until today but was super tasty). I made the mashed potatoes (had no idea three russet potatoes made so much!), some vegetarian gravy (super yummy, also a first time), a all-organic, natural pumpkin pie and homemade crust (thank god I got the Grandma Agnes pie-crust gene), and some Light Rolls (which are a southern thing, but basically light and buttery dinner rolls). Surprisingly we didn't have any fails. I rarely use recipes and often screw things up a bit, so this was pretty great.

Justin set the table and we arranged the dishes for photos and timer pictures and then sat down to our little meal. It was quiet and peaceful and really lovely. The two dogs were treated with tastes of almost everything (even the pie) and I think enjoyed the day too. Earlier, I'd taken them for a walk in the park, so no one gained any weight (I hope).

 

This year, I'm very thankful for a lot of things- mostly having a good family and my Charlie by my side. I'm thankful he didn't give up on me when he could've (when I ran off to Oregon) and thankful that we've been having such a nice and happy life. He has a really large calming effect on me, which is not so common. We get along and have so much in common and meander through life at about the same pace. We've found peace and tranquility in Oregon again and things are moving in the right direction. I'm thankful to have a job, and to have been lucky enough to find work whenever I needed it. I'm thankful that I was able to be a gypsy for five years and return to home with Justin, coming full circle. We are thankful for everything we have, and try not to take it for granted.

It's a mishmash- missing Oatie, trains, my new niece, and the old farmhouse.

I have to start with pictures of Oatie. Since I have this urge to call Molly's beautiful baby girl, Lily, by his name on occasion. Yes, I am getting that senile. I do think that Oatie is the cutest chihuahua on the face of this Earth. But I will stop now before I risk sounding like one of those annoying mothers.

Lil' sweetie...

Leaving the on the Portland train... see that guy in the green on the left? He had ridden his BMW motorcycle from Alaska down to the states but had some sort of mechanical breakdown and was taking the train home.

Me and the ceiling. If only they still made train stations like this, I think more people would travel.

Cute old man who was taking the train from Los Angeles to Fargo!

My happy new birthday present. I-pod which is larger than 4GB (replacing my five year old model.) And of course the pink sock camera case and hedonism notebook.

Stopping in Havre, Montana. My fellow passengers. Slightly different than Asia.

Neato sign.

Arrival into North Dakota. See, I wasn't lying when I said it was beautiful.

Lily. My little niece. We were hanging out in the backseat together. I tried to teach her to raise her eyebrows like I taught Molly but she hasn't quite caught on yet.

Here's the house where my mom lived until she was fifteen (no running water)- about 45 minutes northwest of Minot. The last time anyone lived here was in the 1960s, but my mom has been visiting the house with my sisters and me since the 1980s. It's still quite structurally sound, but time has taken its toll on the interior. Still a fun place to visit and envision the early life on the farm and not as spooky as when I was little.

I just like the silos. These, of course, are new.

Moving inside and upstairs to one of the bedrooms.

Just a little creepy doll on the floor upstairs.

Hmm. What sort of things did they REALLY do on the prairie?

Oh, then you go and confess it. And everything's just fine.

Perhaps the dress to wear to church?

No more pathetic stories. The only thing no one's carted away is that massive old stove.

It was a Fridgidare.

The view out the living room window, which you could see on the left hand side from the front.

Barking Man

Oatie, also known as Barking Man, is my best friend in Portland. I take him everywhere with me. He's Mr. Casual, looking like he's riding a rollercoaster, rather than hanging over my orange-fleece-covered arm, not even bothering to feel nervous by the thought that with a little slip he could be on the floor. Nah, he trusts me. We are buds like that.

We go way back. Back to when I first visited Carrie in Grand Forks, North Dakota. She'd told me that she got a chihuahua. I thought, "Why in God's name would you ever get one of those ugly things?" I went to visit at Christmas, braving the death-welcoming tundra that is December in North Dakota. At Carrie's house, she tried to get me to hold The Dog. I have never liked dogs, ever since they chased me down the street in Alexandria, trying to eat me alive. I know that's what they were thinking. Anyway. I said, "What if he pees on me?"

"Oh, he's never peed on anyone!" Carrie pushed him at me. She's like that sometimes.

What could a little rat dog like this do, anyway? I tried fake like him. But he knew I was lying. He peed on me. At end of the visit, my sister insisted on photodocumentation of me holding the dogs, pretending I thought they were cute. I did not think they were cute.

I flew home, happy to return to my solitary existence.

A couple years later, I agreed to let Carrie move in with me. Well I was VERY HAPPY to have Carrie move in with me. I decided I could PUT UP with The Dog.

For three months, I hated him. I ignored him. He peed on things. I got mad. I wanted him to move out.

I decided I should fake like him again. So I started to pick him up and hug him and tell him, "I love you." This is where the psych degree comes in handy. I started to LOVE the dog. It must have been that mind training that I was doing on him. It backfired.

So I moved to NZ. And I missed The Dog. I would think of him jumping up and down when I came in the door. I was sad.

I returned home to Portland and the first person who I saw was Oatie. He squealed in his kennel and jiggled the door. It was a fantastic reunion, complete with smelly dog breath licking on my face. (Of which I am still not a fan.)

We've settled into our routine. Walks every other day to the coffee shop. Picking up strangers everywhere. Peeing on everything that looks like it could be a tree or bush (that's just Oatie, not me!) I jump into the car. Oatie jumps into the car. (Okay, sometimes he's too lazy to jump into the car and just looks at me pathetically until I pick him up.) We cruise the streets of Portland, hanging out the windows.

Sometimes when I'm not looking, he sneaks a lick on my face, aiming for the lips. Sometimes he misses the mark and gets his tooth caught in my nose in his fervor. He knows I don't like it, but he does it anyway. He's a man like that.

Today we dressed him up in his Gap sweatshirt. He abruptly became comatose with warmth.

I took him to our coffeeshop. The one that lets the dog come in and sit on my lap. Yes I am now one of THOSE people. A dog person.