Annn-ti-ci-pay-ay-shun (c'mon! sing it!)

The Definite

- Pretty much northeast Wyoming's largest, biggest, Woot!-est free-range turkey, roasted, carved up and taking up a healthy chunk of my mom's kitchen table.

- A dozen or so people from my parents' church whose names and faces I sometimes match up right, sometimes not. It's awkward to ask someone how their grandkids are when they, in fact, do not have grandkids. Awkward moments are perfect moments for eating another slice of pie. The more awkward the moment, the bigger the bite of pie. Mmmmm ... pie ...

- Someone asking me how my love life is, and the resultant exercise in self control when I resist the urge to let the two-pronged serving fork do my MYOB answering for me. My love life is mine, and your smirk has earned you this dried-out bit of ham.

- Getting my act-like-a-dork-around-kids fix when I hang out with Brooke and her kids. Kids love grownups who act like dorks, and I'm usually more than happy to oblige. They're not my kids.

- Starbucks with said best bud. I'm angling for a Coffee Friends fix, too. A nod to the good ol' days when Eric, Josh and Dee would make our lattes and chat it up with us while we skipped school. I miss those days. I miss skipping school, and I miss my mom encouraging me to skip school.

- Dad working a Thanksgiving shift at a plant full of people who are far from thankful for the steaming plateful of B.S. they've been dished up. Warren Buffett, may you get the worst indigestion known to Thanksgiving feasting, and my nothing ease your indigestion; may a shrieking toddler be among the group of people invading your house; and may someone else eat ALL of the pie you had your greedy eyes on, leaving you not a morsel. Not. A. Morsel.

The Possible

- "New Moon" with Brooke. Oh, stop groaning and whining. I'm not dragging you to it, and I likely won't opine about it here. But I'm going, and I'm as sick of people whining about hearing about it as they are of hearing about it. Or something. That totally made sense in my head, by the way.

- Shopping extravaganza with Mom. Or: Let's-shop-and-then-take-a-nap-then-go-for-lunch-and-think-about-maybe-shopping-some-more extravaganza with Mom. Either way, there's shopping involved. And lunch. And Mom.

- Some Kristie time. I hope.

The Unlikely

- I'll just leave this unsaid.

Ghosts of Thanksgiving Past
(Or: The Good, the Bad, and the "I didn't know a deer could do that to a radiator ...")

THE GOOD - Most of my Thanksgivings fit into the "good" category, because most of them have been filled with friends and family and love and naps and marathon showings of "A Christmas Story" on TBS.

One unusual Thanksgiving for our family was one when Dad was working and we were (I later discovered) broke as a joke. So we went to a soup kitchen-type dinner at the Knights of Columbus. I pretty much just remember that we ate there; I don't really remember who we sat with or met or anything else. I just remember being amazed that there were that many people who didn't have families to have Thanksgiving with. That may have been what inspired my mom to start doing what she does now - inviting everyone she meets to our house for a Thanksgiving smorgasboard ...

THE BAD - Thanksgiving dinner of Jenny-O turkey loaf, then breaking up with my boyfriend, followed by a nine-hour drive across Nebraska. "Sucked" is such an understatement.

THE DEER - Heading back to UW after Thanksgiving weekend, my Mercury Sable, "Eeyore," met his untimely demise when he collided with a deer at 80 miles an hour.

The deer: Effing. Lived.

My car: DOA.

Me: Hysterically clutching the flannel-shirted chest of the hunter who finally stopped to help me, and hiccuping and sobbing my way through an explanation of what had happened. Big, burly hunter men, well-intending as they are, do not do well in the Consoling Strange and Stranded Girls category. But he scored all As for calling 911 for me.

Radiator: What radiator? There wasn't a radiator left.

It was the only time a law enforcement officer ever did (or ever will) commend me for speeding: The deer flew over the roof of my car, knocking a nice spider web crack into my windshield with its hoof along the way. "If you hadn't been speeding," Officer So-and-So said, "it would have gone through your windshield, and you and I wouldn't be chatting."

I'm probably not supposed to tell you that a Wyoming Highway Patrol officer actually gave me an attagirl for speeding, but I didn't have to sign a pact of secrecy or swear a blood oath or anything, so maybe I'm safe. Maybe there's a statute of limitations on leaking that kind of information. I hope the limit is 10 years.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. Drive safe, avoid wildlife, save the breakups for another day, invite a stranger (but not an axe murderer) over for dinner, and catch up with a good friend.