The highlight of the day, however, might have been when I got to drive my car. My little, adorable, sweet car named Jose. He's a bug. The second I turned my car on NPR started playing, and the nostalgia started flowing. I love me some talk radio, but that's a conversation for another time. Anyway, I opened the windows and the sun roof, became enlightened about the produce market in Philadelphia and the most recent car accident statistics (The whole point of that story was that men get involved in SIGNIFICANTLY more car crashes, which makes me wonder why women are always scapegoated as the bad drivers. Weird, right?) and it was just an excellent experience. Daddy dearest, if you're reading this, you could totally let me take little Jose back up to Provo if you loved me that much. We'll talk.
The moral of this story is that I love my hometown and my family and didn't realize how attached I was to either of those things. Wait, I think I'm about to get so Thanksgiving-appropriate on ya'all. Brace yourself.
I'm genuinely just SO thankful for my family. I missed them and I'm so grateful for an awesome family that says funny things and keeps traditions together. Despite my aching hips, I'm grateful for the family tradition of running the turkey trot and then eating breakfast and making pies together. I'm also thankful for the family tradition of planning family vacations that involve excessively hiking over Thanksgiving dinner. That part hasn't happened yet, but I bet you all a dollar that someone is going to bring it up tonight. I'll keep you posted. I'm thankful for the very established family tradition that Amy always cuts the pie. I'm also thankful for stuffing. That stuff is delicious.
Anyway, it's been a while and Brooklyn has been pressuring me to blog, so I just thought I would let the planet know that my life rocks. Happy Thanksgiving!
P.S. If you know the reference in the title, you're either in my family or destined to be my best friend forever.
