Thanksgiving Penguin, With All the Trimmings

My apologies to Anna. I did my best, but I just couldn't finish my post until today.

Thanksgiving almost started without me this year. I was supposed to catch the 12:30 train to Naperville from Union Station, and I gave myself plenty of time to get there, but I still just made it by a hair. First, the L was running slowly, which took up more time than I had anticipated, but I still thought I was doing fine. I made it to Union Station with fifteen minutes to spare. Pleased with myself for getting there on time, I got in the first ticket line I came to. When I finally came to the front of the line, I realized that I was in the wrong ticket line for the wrong railroad. Having killed five minutes there, I was down to only ten minutes left. I raced down the hallways towards the proper ticket booth, only to be faced with a line of at least thirty people. I got in line and prayed that I could get through quickly. I finally got to the front of the line with five minutes to spare. I raced up to the ticket booth and was prepared to request my ticket, when I saw a sign that changed everything: We do not accept credit cards of any kind. I had no cash on me. The man in the booth must have seen my severe distress, so he pointed out an ATM down the hallway. I rushed over, got the cash, and was about to get back in line when I saw the same ticket man waving for me to come back over to his booth. He let me cut in front of everyone else; certainly, this was a Thanksgiving miracle. I made it on to the train with two minutes left, just enough time to stop gasping for air and smooth away the perma-panic expression on my face before the ticket attendant came to punch my card.

Whew, I'm out of breath just thinking about it.

Spending Thanksgiving with Lindsey's family was incredibly fun. They were very warm and inviting, and let us help with the dinner preparations, which to me is the surest sign of welcome in a house.



This year's Thanksgiving had the same plan of action that we usually have at our family Thanksgiving get-togethers: Everyone waits till the majority of the guests arrive. Everyone breaks into three groups: the kids go to the basement to play games and hang out, the senior guests talk in the living room, and everyone inbetween is in the kitchen preparing the food. Bizarre that it seems to come natural to so many people.



Travis made the most adorable appetizers ever. He carefully constructed miniature penguins out of olives, cream cheese, and carrots. Lindsey's family had seen March of the Penguins, so they were in charge of making sure that the platter scene was realistic.

We had a great time. There was great food and laughter, and everyone pitched in to wash dishes. We spent the rest of the evening playing card games and relaxing. Travis and I were both invited to stay the night, and the next morning Deb made sure we got a delicious breakfast before we ran out the door to catch our train back in to town.

So, despite the fact that this was my first Thanksgiving away from my parents, it was a good one.

Now's the Winter of Our Discontent...

Winter has come to Chicago, and I have already learned something new: I will be wearing long underwear, sweaters, earmuffs, mittens, hats, sockliners, and heavy coats until April. Holy cow, the cold here is like no other cold that I have ever experienced.

When Travis first moved to Wheaton, he would call home and say how the cold sank into his bones the moment he stepped outside. Of course, I didn't take him seriously, since I knew he enjoyed (and still does enjoy) walking around in ripped jeans and flip-flops year round. Well, yesterday I found out that he was so very right about it all.

Yesterday, I opened my blinds to see tiny snowflakes falling and sticking to the ground. Delighted with the thought of taking a pleasant walk during my first snowfall in Chicago, I raced to get dressed, lest I miss this opportunity. I threw on a coat and stepped outside, ready to enjoy a gentle winter experience...
And immediately raced back inside to warm myself. I have never felt cold like this before. The temperature penetrates your very core, until you feel that you will never be warm again. Today, with the temperatures in the mid-20s, I did not dare to venture outdoors until I had covered myself from head to toe with at least two layers of heavy cloth. So, if you start wondering this winter why there are fewer pictures of myself on this blog, it is because I will spend the majority of my time dressed as a Siberian survivalist.

Sticky Shoes... Again

It seems to me that I was cursed as an infant. I can imagine the night that it all happened, very Harry Potter-like in style. Lying in my crib on a dark, stormy night, I watch a sinister stranger approach. Pulling a wand from his black cloak, he points it at me, and in a low voice mutters the curse that will forever change my destiny:

May it be that now, and forever more,
Your life will be blighted by a singular misfortune,
Unavoidable and eternal...
You will be splashed with alcohol whenever you go to a professional sports venue!

More on that later.

The whole family got together last weekend, and we all piled in a rental van and drove up to Green Bay to see the Packers play on the Frozen Tundra. Goodness, that football field is huge! Within the arena, there are multiple restaurants, stores, plazas, and an impressive Packers museum. We had a great time just looking around, and spent about three hours just taking it all in. Finally, it was time for the game to start, and we strode down the concrete tunnel towards the blazing sunlight within the arena. It was all very dramatic, as the sight of the field burst upon us in a blaze of Cheesehead glory. No, I'm not a huge Packers fan myself, but it was a pretty neat experience.



We had seats on the third row, just to one side of the endzone. It was amazing to see the players up close, after only seeing them on TV before. Man, they're much bigger in real life. It was almost as much fun to watch the fans during the game, though after the first quarter they got a little sloppy for my taste. The Fulchers, my family, and I were sandwiched between two rows of Steelers fans in front, and many rows of Packers fans behind, and we found ourselves caught in a crossfire of unintelligent insults, loud brawling, and drunken profanity. I was crushed several times by a rather loopy woman who found my head to be the perfect leaning post as she shouted remarks to the Steelers fans below us. During the second quarter, someone spilled a full glass of beer all over my pants and shoes, so I smelled rather yeasty for the rest of the day.
Still, we had a great time. For Mom, it was the fulfillment of a dream to be there and see Brett Favre play in Green Bay. She was grinning all through the game. Honestly, I enjoyed myself, and we made some great memories on that vacation.

So, it seems that I am always destined to get beer spilled on me whenever I watch professional sports. And it seems that I get a different type of alcohol depending on what I watch. When it's hockey, I get splattered with dark ale; with baseball, light ale; and now with football, a flood of beer. It's amazing the patterns we find ruling over our fates.