We flew home to California for the quietest Thanksgiving ever with my parents. None of my siblings were able to make it so it was just us four. So we ate a lot, crafted a bit, saw some old friends, visited Old Town Sacramento, went on a walk with the abominable snow man (and obtained the best picture ever but I promised not to share it but I also will never delete it because it's good for a laugh) and watched a lot of Seinfeld.
This was also the trip that I finally overcame my fear of flying. I've dealt with this anxious, awful fear for a whopping 12 months of my life. It all started when I moved to Denver and then proceeded to fly on EIGHT of the most turbulent flights of my life. (Like drinking-tipping, people-shrieking, we're probably going down turbulence.)
I grew up flying a ton. I've never been afraid of flying, but for the last year every plane I was on seemed like it was going to fall out of the sky. And that can make a person a little antsy. Luckily, it seems that year of bizarre flights has come to an end and the last few have been fairly normal.
Thank goodness because then I would have had to start driving every where and long car trips are the worst...especially through northern Nevada.