Thanksgiving Adventures

So I went to New Mexico for Thanksgiving to visit Patrick's parents.  Which is all well and good, but New Mexico is the dark underbelly of the United States.  If you haven't been there, don't go.  If you have, and you like it, then you're a hippie.  Let me tell you how the state is laid out: you get into the state, and there's no town (I don't count Raton because it's over in about three miles).  Then there's a whole lot of prairie/desert/mountain land just hanging around, with lots of elk that want to kill you, especially if you drive a compact car. 

Then you see a sign that hints that there might be civilization nearby, but really it's just another town that's four buildings long with several scraggly-haired residents that are awestruck when they hear that there are cities with street lights and such.
Finally, you get to where you're staying.  We stayed in Taos and Eagle Nest, New Mexico.  And it's dark.  DARK.  DAAARRRRRRKKKK.  Now, it's not like I grew up in New York City, but I do appreciate street lights and 24 hour businesses; it just lets me know that I'm not the only person alive at 10 pm.  So I don't sleep at all because I'm so freaked out, and then have to get up and act charming so that Patrick's parents don't think I'm a whiny baby.

I'm telling you, if you can avoid New Mexico, do it.

However, the good thing is that Patrick got to see his family, and that makes me happy.  I'm going to assume that our Thanksgiving dinner will be delicious and there will be happiness all around.  I'll just try not to dwell on the fact that my brain keeps featuring scenes from The Hills Have Eyes or The Crazies while I try to fall asleep in the black, black night.

I hope all of you had a wonderful Turkey Day full of delicious noms and happy family time.

Being Lost

I'm Laura.  I need a creative outlet before the burdens of the brink of adulthood explode out of my little self and splatter everyone with misery.
People that I will mention most probably:

Patrick--the boyfriend
Butters--the kitten
Chumma--the (boyfriend's) dog
Jill--the sister
Mom and Dad and Friends--all pretty self explanatory

/endblogintro

I'm sitting here watching Undercover Boss all by myself (well the cat is trying to stand on the keyboard as I type, and the dog is dead to the world on the floor).  And, while mildly entertained by CEO's having to endure what I generally do, I thought to myself, "I miss Lost."

And then, thinking about that a second longer, I thought, "Okay maybe not that much."  Now don't get me wrong, I was one of the biggest lost fans on the planet.  I made Lost Christmas cookies one time, as well as Lost Easter eggs.  I think I only ever missed three episodes.  I loved that show like a fat kid loves cake.  But that changed on a minute to minute basis when actually watching the show.
Here's a depiction:

The show starts off all calm and interesting, lulling me into a false sense of "knowing-what-the-hell-is-going-on."  Then they throw in a character from two seasons ago who we're all supposed to remember right away.  Yeah, right.  Then someone dies, or someone changes sides, or something eats someone.  By the last half of the show, I'm ready to change the channel because no television show is worth the migraine.  Then someone reveals one little detail that sort of makes things fall into place, at least until the next episode.  I think, "Okay, that was an okay episode.  Maybe I'll watch it again to see if I can figure anything out."  Then BAM!  It's 3 in the morning and I can't sleep because I know I missed something crucial, and the rest of the world is in the know and I'm not.

So now I'm content with just watching some poor sod trying to make a Subway sandwich, and I'm okay with that.