Home, the land of milk and honey and long walks in the woods and Mom's Thanksgiving dinner.
It was a great Thanksgiving. Only the four of us were there; Dad (being Dad) wanted to invite some friends, but Mom said no. So it was just family time. I got to tell everyone about my latest work projects. I chatted with Dad about politics and we laughed together over Biden's latest gaffes. (We don't 100% see eye-to-eye on these things, but we both think Trump is an idiot and Biden is half senile so there's plenty of common ground.) And I got to catch up with my brother. Been a long time since we've hung out. Come to think of it, is this the first time we've seen each other this year? It might be. Wow.
It was less chill of a holiday than I was expecting. I was hoping for some downtime to just sit in the sunroom and bask in the sun and do some drawing, but it felt like we were always going somewhere or doing something. On both Saturday and Sunday, we woke up early for an hour-long hike at the local forest preserve. That was, of course, excellent, although my ankles ached all Saturday and even more so Sunday when I woke up. Out of shape, I guess. Then Dad is a hardcore Pokemon gymmer so we were jetting here and there to take over all the gyms in easy driving distance. Also, Mom wanted my brother and me to set up the Christmas tree.
Before the trip, I was hyping all the things I was looking forward to—long walks! sunroom! going outside any time I feel like it!—and my roommate asked whether I'd like to stay there on a long-term basis, maybe a month or so, while the pandemic is still going and I'm working remotely. The answer is a resounding no. I love visiting my parents, but I would absolutely not want to move back in, and this trip clarified that for me.
So yeah, great vacation, but also great to be back home.
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