Miguelina

So maybe you didn't get a chance to chat with me when I was at Butterball last week? (WHY? Were you too busy for me?) Maybe we didn't get to answer your question during last week's inaugural chat? (Sorry about that!) Or perhaps we're getting really close to Thanksgiving and all the procrastinators out there are starting to worry about next week's dinner.

Well, lucky you.

Chris will be in Chicago tomorrow answering your questions. You can chat with her from 12-2 EST by logging on to Butterball.com. You read her blog, so you know she's funny and witty - now's your chance to chat with her. I have, and I can guarantee you that she's worth it.

Have fun, Chris!

No matter how long it's been since I've had an office job, Sunday night is always bittersweet. Every day is pretty much the same for me, but I still can't get over that Sunday night feeling where you try to make the weekend last a little longer by trying a little harder. Too bad it never works.

I love it.

The end.

(A real post will come tomorrow. I'm currently working on figuring out how my new phone works.)

(Squee!)

My favorite Thanksgiving memory has nothing to do with my childhood. Oh, we had a few wonderful Thanksgivings when I was a child - we celebrated it every once in a while when we were living in a country where November means "beach season" and they were still great in their own way - but I'd be lying if I said that any one of them stood out.

Instead, my most memorable Thanksgiving is the one where I met my husband. Forget Valentine's day - Thanksgiving is the most romantic time of the year for us. It's a little weird, but it works for us.

It wasn't always that way, of course. When I was a carefree young professional, Thanksgiving meant a slow work week where we already had 2.5 days off - so a couple of girlfriends and I started the tradition of taking the entire week off work and when you're young and single and mostly broke, that can only mean one thing: ROAD TRIP!

So that year, that's what we did. We drove on I95 for two days, and when we arrived in Washington DC it was the Saturday before Thanksgiving. The city was abuzz with young people out for one last night out before they headed home to be with their families. And that was the night I met my husband.

We had just met, but he acted horrified by the fact that we didn't have any plans for Thanksgiving dinner. Weren't we Americans? (Yes.) Isn't that against the law? (No.)

So he and two of his friends did what any good American boys would do - they invited us over for Thanksgiving dinner.

Only thing is, my husband is not American. He's European. He'd never cooked Thanksgiving dinner - or really, any dinner - before.

Let's just say you should be thankful I'm alive.

(Oh I kid!)

We had no other plans, and he's kind of cute, so we said yes. And then the guys went into panic mode, ordering a precooked turkey from Giant, buying napkins and candles, and - here's my favorite part - collecting assorted pieces of silverware from their various bachelor friends because they didn't have enough forks and spoons for a dinner for eight.

Isn't that the cutest thing you ever heard?

The best part is that when we arrived everything was perfect - there were candles and wine and they even invited other friends over so that we could meet new people. After a few glasses of wine one of my friends asked how much longer until the turkey was done.

Done?

In all the wining and chatting, they forgot to put the turkey in the oven! (Even "pre-cooked" turkeys need to go in the oven.)

Thankfully, my friend Andrea is a fantastic cook, and she somehow managed to save the day. The turkey was fine, but the best part was after dinner, when the man who would one day be my husband came over with the wishbone and asked me to make a wish.

I did. 

And it came true.

Maybe there's something wrong with me, but I read this article on Salon about the "momification" of Michelle Obama and I don't get why the writer's so mad. So she's going to be in charge of the family's transition to Washington. So?

Did I miss something?

Who else is going to do it? Does the writer want her to go back to managing a hospital? I'd rather have her in the White House where she can be a standard-bearer for working women (and yes, many of them are mothers and thus "momified"). Yes, at one point in their married life she was making more money than he was. Yes, she used to be his superior at the law firm where they met. But their lives have changed. They seem to have adapted, even though it wasn't easy. (Barack admits to it himself - there's a lengthy quote in the article.) She decided to support him in his political career. They've both made sacrifices because of that and they both seem to value family life above all. Good for them.

I remember reading somewhere that he was visibly upset when he told an interviewer that he could only spend two hours with the girls after they got their Christmas tree because of the campaign. But then he did the school drop-off on the morning he was to leave to go to the White House as President-elect. He obviously chose to do that - and sent a message that being a dad is important to him. I didn't see anyone complaining about the "dadification" of Barack Obama. 

Does everything have to be offensive?

The fact that she has chosen to call herself Mom-in-Chief makes me love her even more because it's reminiscent of how many of us choose to call ourselves Stay-at-Home-Mothers instead of housewives. She's one of us. Motherhood - parenthood - is a source of pride to our generation, not an offensive label. But you guys know that.

I guess the writer fell into the generation gap. This lame attempt at reigniting the "Mommy-Wars" gets a big shrug from me.