Borderline, at best

As we get ready to head back to Kansas this week for the Thanksgiving holiday, I have been doing a A LOT of laundry. My goal is for every.single.item. of clothing we own to be clean before we hit the road on Wednesday. Ever since we got back from our honeymoon, I've just been skimming the top of hamper and sticking it in the washer each week. I'm fairly sure that when I actually reach the bottom of the basket, there will be a nice pair of the cut-off jorts waiting for me...from July.

On Sunday evening, Jon and I went to Wildfire in Old Georgetown for a celebratory dinner with Jon's boss and his fiance. Since they were unable to attend the wedding, they wanted to treat us (and holy moly, it was a treat). It was SO delightful, especially for a carnivore like me. We passed around plates of lamb, elk, and duck. 

Lieutenant Colonel Gordon And Captain Morgan probably saw each other every single day of the deployment, so I'm pretty sure that there is a certain level of comfort there. And I must say, THANK GOODNESS they are not stuffy. After we had polished off the first bottle of Malbec, and I reached over for another dinner roll and realized that they were gone. I jokingly piped in, "Man, we just ran a train through those rolls." And I admit, it was kind of funny when I heard someone use the phrase for the first time, but they were ROLLING on the floor . At that point, I made a mental note to use the quote again because it sure was a hit.

After we ended the dinner with some fab peach cobbler, we said our goodbyes and Jon and I took a little stroll around the town square. It was at that point that Jon finally explained what "run a train on" actually means. I WAS MORTIFIED! If you are innocent child like me, you may need to research it on Urban Dictionary. I get red just reading about it! There is nothing even borderline appropriate about what I said.

In an attempt to redeem myself and prove I do have a little bit of tact, I made my first apple pie for our upcoming Kansas dinner.

It really is anybody's guess on what it actually tastes like, because you certainly can't take a half-eaten pie to a holiday fest- I mean, we are way too classy for that. Mom- you may want to make a back-up pie, just sayin'.

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving! I'll be back soon, if we survive in the 9 hour trip with 110 lb. lab in our tinsy Audi.

All My Love,

Jessica