Thanksgiving Road Trip

To watch the video in big, HD goodness, click HERE and hit the HD button.

Those of you that know me, I mean really know me, also know that I'm not a big fan of family gatherings. If you ask my mom, she'll tell you that (much to her disappointment) I've been this way since I was a small child.

They give me hives.

I'm not kidding.

Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love Thanksgiving - it's one of my favorite holidays (second only to Iz Day, of course). It's just that I usually prefer to spend the long weekend by myself, eating yams out of a can and feeling thankful for my family without having to actually be around them. It's not that I don't love them.

I do. Really, I do.

But I also work with them every day, and sometimes an extended weekend by myself is exactly what I need to truly feel, um, well.....thankful.

When you are an only child and unmarried, you can totally get away with this. You can sleep late on Thanksgiving morning, wake up whenever you feel like it, go for a long ride, lounge around the house in clothes you'd never wear in public, eat too many canned yams, drink too much wine, watch too much football (and then do it all over again the next day, and the next day and the next).

*sigh*

Good times.

Of course, a few years ago, I met Karen and suddenly, well, my family became her family, and hers became mine. Her holiday traditions became my holiday traditions, and my solitary ways? Well....they say change is good.

Right?

So this year we (and when I say we, I mean Karen and I and Izzy the squinty-eyed, cone-headed dog) packed our things (and when I say things, I mean one bag for Karen and me, and an entire carload of food, toys, eye medications, baby gates, pillows and pooper-scooper sacks for the Izzard) and we headed for California.

Destination? San Jose!

Fog along I-5 - Woot! California Bound!

To give you an idea of the significance of this 13-hour road trip (I mean other than the fact that I just wanted to stay home and eat canned yams by myself) let me give you a little bit of background information on Izzy. She is eleven (and a half) years old. The last time she was in the car for longer than twenty minutes was when I drove from Atlanta to Olympia in 1999. As I recall, she started eating the seatbelts as soon as we hit Interstate 20 and screamed for a potty break every 47 seconds.

Also, she is gassy.

Another fact about Izzy? She doesn't know how to swim. In fact, it takes 2-3 people to successfully bathe her (in a one-on-one situation, you will end up in the tub and Izzy will run around the house laughing at you). To say that she hates water is an understatement. Why am I bringing this up?

Just keep reading.

The first of seventeen cups of coffee (oh, sweet nectar)

Somehow we managed to pile Izzy (and all her gear) into the car and backed out of the driveway at o'dark-thirty. The clock said a little after six, but it felt like hours earlier, which was probably why Izzy settled in on her pillows (yes, plural - one was not enough) and fell sound asleep. With the exception of of a potty break in Cottage Grove, Oregon and then again somewhere in Northern California, she actually slept the entire way.

And she only tooted once, unless that was Karen.

Record Holder For Most Number Of Naps In A 13-Hour Period

Anyhoo, as it turns out, Izzy was going to need all that sleep. Waiting for her in California was a family with lots of love, lots of energy and, yes, a swimming pool!

Which is exactly what Dizzy Izzy fell into at 4:30am on Thanksgiving morning. All I remember is that she was whining, and before I could tell Karen to ignore it (because Izzy tends to whine and then fall back asleep after performing exactly seven counterclockwise circles around her bed) they were both outside peeing (Izzy) and swimming laps (Izzy and a not-very-happy Karen).

Apparently, after the Izzard finished watering the lawn, she proceeded to ignore Karen's shouts of warning and stepped (cone-first) into the deep end of the swimming pool, immediately sinking to the bottom. Meanwhile, Karen (whose greatest fear was that I would never speak to her again if she somehow let my dog drown while on a potty break) dove head first into the ice-cold water to save Izzy's life.

Of course, Izzy didn't really feel like being saved. No, notsomuch. Once at the surface, she threw a world famous Izzy Fit (not to be confused with a Tegger Tantrum, which I'm sure is documented on this blog somewhere in case you've never witnessed it first-hand), thrashed around like a wild thing to get free of Karen, and went on to swim a few laps with a pissed-off (not to mention half-frozen) human chasing her around the pool.

Not bad for a dog who doesn't know how to swim!

Anyway, Izzy's adventures were too numerous to fit into a single blog post. I recommend that you watch the video above and check out the photos HERE.

Post-Thanksgiving Bed Head - Feelin' All Kinds of Sex-ay!

The truth is, Izzy had the best weekend of her life celebrating the Thanksgiving holiday with her California family. And, believe it or not, I did find my happy place. It turns out you can still eat too many yams, drink too much wine (and beer and lemon drops), oversleep, ride your bike for miles and miles and still be a part of something bigger than yourself.

Yes, I learned this from my gassy, cone-headed, squinty-eyed, eleven (and a half) year-old dog.

Thank you, Izzy.