The Holidays - Grown-Up Edition

I think today marks the end of my first grown-up holiday. I'll be leaving on a northbound bus to a northbound train today around 1:00. As a matter of fact, I should be packing currently, but figured I would give this Thanksgiving a bit more thought before I am banished to a train of either screaming children already high on holiday sweets or creepy people who want to be my friend. 

My parents only moved to Texas in February, and it's a bit of an adjustment from when they lived two hours away from Shepherdstown at our home in Forest Hill, Md. When it all comes down to it, the only attachment I really had left in Forest Hill was its proximity to me. Really there can't be any place farther (culturally and physically) away from me when I'm in West Virginia. But, in this life you do what you have to do, and Texas was their big (pun completely intended) have to do. 

I don't think the previous paragraph really ties in with anything, but it seemed important so bear with me. One of my journalism professor's biggest complaints about my style of writing was that it never really connected. (Hey, man, hasn't he ever heard of stream of consciousness?)

Back to my first grown-up holiday. In my conversations with the people in the train stations and dining cars I met on my way down, I actually told them "I'm going to my parents' house for Thanksgiving." This is something I never could have envisioned saying. I was always "going home for the holidays" or "heading back to Har/Co" (which, if you're from Harford County, for whatever reason Har/Co is synonymous with home). This time, I was going to my parents place, this is the first house they've had in my lifetime that I cannot possibly associate any ties of "home" to. 

This, to me, is bizarre and one of the first signs of being an adult. To make it more grown-up, they're coming to my house for Christmas, you know, that whole trading off of holidays that old people do. 

Esh. Holi-daze. 

Regardless, my visit here was nice. Much more positive than my summer visit. It's cooler - but still warm, mind you - and there are more people squirming about because the temperature has dropped below boiling. We went to a hockey game (yes, ice) and it became so apparent that Texans love their sports teams, regardless of the sport. Texans are a proud people in a way that no one in this country is proud of their state and I actually have to commend them for that. Everyone should be proud of where they live, that's what the homeless hippy I met in Haight-Ashbury in San Francisco said. 

"I want you to say where you're from, and smile while you're saying it!" And, as it turned out, he had family in West Virginia. 

I head home to mountains of West Virginia and mountains of Christmas decorating to do, holiday shoppers to defeat (read: sell up) and children to combat. I have a kitty who needs her stitches removed. The "Vagina Monologues" need auditioning for and I need to get myself into tip-top holiday shape (not exercise. ew). 

But first, a train. 

Happy First Day in Advent (if you're down with Christianity). If not, happy Sunday. To shoppers - I hope you got all of the sales you intended this weekend. To fellow retailers - I hope you survived the rush wherever you work.