Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving was pretty darned swell for the Lovely Mrs. Sneed and me. Even winding up bruised and bleeding in my neighbor's yard couldn't put a total damper on the day.

(He waits an appropriate period to explain...anticipation builds)

Okay, I'll tell you, but those who think that I mouthed off one time too many and finally got the beating I deserved, will be disappointed.

Older Son Sneed and family, came over yesterday afternoon to visit a bit, on their way to Daughter-in-Law Sneed's parents for dinner. Unfortunately for me, they brought along a Nerf football and who can resist a Nerf football? Certainly not me.

We were out throwing the ball around in the street. As it will happen, we started trying to throw the ball farther and farther to one another, by backing up in opposite directions. Two guys cannot play catch without seeing who can throw farther and harder. Even when one guy is twenty-two years older than the other guy. You think a younger guy would try to protect his father from getting hurt by not...well, you know the rest.

In fairness to me, I had just been watching Brett Favre of the Green Bay Packers on television. Brett is old, at least by football standards. I may have overestimated the effect the ravages of time have had on me. They need to put a warning sign crawling across the bottom of the television screen during games involving Brett Favre.

Warning! Brett Favre is a professional. Old jackasses at home should not assume that they can still play football safely, just because Brett does.

Or something to that effect.

My neighbor Tim and his wife, who were just leaving for their Thanksgiving celebration, stopped their car near me to warn me not to hurt myself.

Tim - "Don't get hurt."

Me - "Ha! I'm still a young and strapping fellow."

Tim - "Except for the young part."

Tim's wife - "And the strapping."

Such kidders. Why can't I remember Tim's wife's name?

On the very next throw from Son Sneed, who was standing far down the cul-de-sac, I tripped over the curb and wound up sprawled in my neighbor Joyce's front yard, stunned and bleeding from the arm and leg. I also hurt my foot and ribs. I'm not blaming it on the throw, but it was way off the mark.

I was spared the indignity of having to be helped up like some guy who's walker collapsed, since no one actually came to my aid. Son Sneed did administer "guy first aid", which involves shouting, "Hey are you okay?" from down the street.

I layed there for a moment, taking stock of my various parts and then struggled to my feet Game over.

Luckily, I was able to pull myself together in time to make it to Daughter Sneed's big Thanksgiving bash. Everyone who was anyone, was there.


Sneedlet One thought plastic fish would add some spice to the Thanksgiving dinner and did his best to provide them. No one knew how to prepare his catch, so we didn't get a taste, but I'll bet they would have been great.


Poor little Koryn confused smile at the camera with stare at the flowers. She's only two so these misunderstandings will happen.


As I mentioned the other day, we release balloons to remember our Christian's birthday. Sneedlet is letting this one go in honor of his brother's twelfth birthday, which would have been today.


You can glimpse just the top of Mrs. Sneed's lovely hair in the bottom right-hand corner as she lets her balloon go.

In all, our thanksgiving dinner was wonderful and I hope yours was too.







Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky