It all began with a bang, quite literally, on Thursday morning. At roughly 8:00 am, I awoke to cannons, loud music, and cheering outside my windows. Now I know how Scott Bakula's character felt everytime he woke up in another person's body on Quantum Leap. (Can we please petition to bring that show back? It's one of my favorites. Puh-lease?) TURNS OUT...my neighborhood is the staging and starting area for the McDonald's Thanksgiving Day Parade.
I figured since I was up, I should probably get the dog outside for a walk before he pees all over white-so-far-so-good-let's-try-and-not-spill-anything carpet. I grabbed my camera, put some shoes on, and we ventured out the front door. Upon reaching the front door, this is what I saw:
That, my friends, is a glittery horse's ass. Happy Thanksgiving, indeed. I felt a little better knowing the horse was more upset about it than I was. Apparently, my block was the staging area for all of our equine friends participating in the parade. I had to pick up the dog just to get across the street, thanks to his immediate fear of the horses, and the hundreds of steaming horse...ahem, contributions...that were scattered all over the street. Don't get me wrong - I'm not a horse hater. I think they are some of the most majestic and graceful animals that ever lived, but c'mon. Yuck.
Click on my Flickr sidebar to see more photos, including the staff of Medieval Times (one of the knights whistled at me as I walked by - perhaps it was my residual mascara undereye circles, or the ratty pair of 3X sweatpants I was wearing? We may never know), a cute Canadian band, and others. I was also interested to see the staging area - I have been a part of the Macy's event in NYC twice, and I think the backstage stuff is always the most entertaining.
After a dinner with friends, I went home and prepared for a weekend trip to the northwoods of Wisconsin. Doc always knows when I am packing, and becomes massively insulted. He then pouts and ignores me, making it impossible to catch his frowny face on camera. Usually he won't even look at me, and then at the last minute, he climbs in my suitcase and refuses to get out.
My aunt and uncle live in Wisconsin (we call it "the forest," or "up there"), and it's always an interesting gathering - we shop at dollar stores, go antiquing, eat too much cheese, and yell over one another in an effort to catch up on each other's lives. Then, my sister, her husband, and I go out to the pub next door and have a couple cocktails. The pub, by the way, is shaped like a keg...because this is the forest, and that's what all pubs look like up in hunting country. Right? Also, a hot tub and pool excursion is mandatory - both to quiet my niece and nephew, but also because NOTHING looks sexier in a two piece bathing suit than someone who has recently consumed 11.3 pounds of turkey, stuffing, and risotto.
All of this is punctuated, of course, by a 4-hour ride home that involves spraying for fleas at my grandmother's house (don't ask...I'm still itchy), and having to turn my face away from every truck that has dead, woodland creatures strapped to its roof. WELCOME TO THE MIDWEST! Cue the carnival music.
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