the Thanksgiving recap

Dear god, driving from to Pittsburgh sucks. Especially when you stop at the Volvo dealership first to get the code so your stereo will actually work and the computer tells the jerk employee that your car does not, in fact, have a stereo. Oh, I think, so that's why I've been using the lighter to power my cd player and some cheesy walkman speakers. It has nothing to do with all that battery drama: I simply have no stereo. Then I went to Wal-Mart for wine and a six-pack (I've become the family bootlegger since I'm the only one who lives in a state without Quaker-made liquor laws) and my cashier was useless, even by Wal-mart standards. Really, the only things keeping me entertained on this drive were pleading with the giant storm clouds to avoid where I was driving on 71, 70, or 79 (thank you thank you thank you) and the pretty song I made up about driving through the Wheeling Tunnel.
I like the way Wheeling, WV looks a lot. Of course, I've only driven there on my way home, and what I should probably really be saying is, I like the font they used over the Wheeling Tunnel. I tried listening to The Outcasts of 19 Schuyler Place audio book during the drive, but my speakers weren't loud enough/it was boring. I think I'm going back to elementary school Jessy's original Konigsburg rating: just not that interesting. But it's nice to see Molly Ringwald earning a paycheck, no?
So I get to my parents, finally, and I'm trying to park on their bigass, brick-paved hill and it's not going so well, as there's a full foot of smushy, slick, wet leaf mess next to the curb. My dad suddenly materializes, and you know, there's really nothing that irritates me more after an insane drive than someone watching me park. I guess I got spoiled by my street being filled with so many un-lived-in houses for so long, because I really resent having to back up and do a full parking thing.
Incidentally, this is also my biggest beef with the SUV that's shown up on my street here in , with the Big Momma sign in the front and the "It's only kinky the first time" bumper sticker: it's parked where I have to use reverse to park in my favorite spot.
But then I get up the steps and into good ol' 1106 and everything's great. The pumpkin tart smells amazing, my cousin's on the phone telling me about this wonderful vacuum cleaner she got (though, since it doesn't turn dust into gold or move around by itself or is completely silent, I'm failing to be awed, even with the this-is-how-my-friend-caught-his-cheatin'-wife story. And if I was on "Last Comic Standing", I'd be cracking something about how that's how she finally got her husband to do some housework, but I'm not. And if I was, I'd be too busy chatting up that Iranian Jew kid to tell any bad jokes, anyway.), my sister's starting in on the first of 3 tantrums she performed over the weekend (I named them Martha, Semantics, and Reverse Psychology, if you're interested) and no longer liking Heinekin, or however it's spelled, and kicking my ass at Scrabble, Brett's getting ready to do his trick (he hops into your hand, because he wants to be petted so badly!).
And the greatness continued all weekend. Yumminess on Thursday; creepy urban mall with random Joseph Beth, Hong Kong Rice Bowl I've been dreaming about for the past couple weeks, kitties dressed as food, dragging Lara into the comic book store and hanging out with wonderful family friends, including people I hadn't seen in a long long time on Friday; Ikea and Spongebob on Saturday; and then the drive home on Sunday, which wasn't quite as bad, even with the pulling out-leafmess problem, probably because I gave up on Ringwald and Konigsburg.
And yes, I bought a couch. Not either of my first two choices, but now that I've finally got its 863 pieces together (cracking a couple in the process, grr), a damn fine couch nonetheless. It's this one, but blue. And it fit in the car, with no swearing at all! Now I just need to figure out what happened to my triangular pillow.
Kitten arrival: T-minus 2 days, and counting.