Even when we travel though, I realize we're never far from our roots.
On this trip, which took us to my Aunt's house in Dallas, we brought along the dogs. I believe this might mean we've fallen victim to "Stockholm syndrome." We've come to empathize with these little terrorists who haunt our lives on a daily basis so much that instead of blissfully leaving them at home so we could "sleep in," we instead brought them along so we could be awakened each day by Winston howling.
Although we only get to Dallas about once a year, my "roots" are there. My side of the "family" is there, although the eclectic bunch with which we try to gather each year is made up of a diverse group of folks most of whom I'm not related to at all, and none of whom constitutes an actual "blood relation."
However my Aunt Kathy, although not technically a "blood relative" has been my de-facto "Mom" for more years than either of us now wish to count, and she's the heart and soul of our Dallas "family."
It's at her house we all gather, sometimes a huge number, this year a smaller number.
No matter how many people are there, one thing never changes...we always have more than enough love to go around...and far too much food.
Amy managed to get in some cooking time, so she was happy...
I managed to get in more than my share of eating and football, so I was content.
The dogs stuck to their routine, waking everyone up far too early, and Winston even managed to find his roots, or at least his pattern of bizarre behavioral quirks.
Thanksgiving morning in a city several hundred miles from home as I walked him and his sister, Avery, on a deserted street...Winston started trying to rush ahead.
You need to know that Winston is not the type of dog who "runs," he usually is dragging up the rear, sniffing at the ground, or stopping cold in his tracks to give you a stare that seems to say, "You are taking us toward food right?"
But Thanksgiving morning he was suddenly pulling at his leash trying fervently to get to something up the street. Then I realized what it was...a pair of socks.
Giant bright red socks.
Winston's sock fetish has been well documented here before and who knows, maybe it was Santa Claus, but someone dropped a pair of socks in the middle of the street...the street the one dog on the planet who will turn down food for socks (okay that might be a stretch) happened to be walking down...what are the odds?
He snatched those socks and proudly carried them back to the house where they became the source of great entertainment.
Besides a looming car repair bill (some type of gasket blew as we arrived in San Antonio - thank God it didn't happen on one of the tiny back roads we frequent in our attempts to avoid holiday traffic) we didn't really spend much money. We bought a few gifts/trinkets/junk at a little gift/trinket/junk shop in one small town...and not much else.
We always stick to back roads and small towns, it's a much more peaceful drive, and Amy and I enjoy the scenery from the fall leaves to the "holiday" lights in Marble Falls...albeit my photography skills don't do the lights justice.
As I was trying to get a photo of the lights in Marble Falls...Amy was busy too...trying to get a decent wireless connection for her laptop...from atop the car.
No, we're never far from our roots...
And I wouldn't want it any other way.
