All that has transpired among my family this holiday takes longer to digest than even the biggest turkey holiday.

My mother and step-father (still getting used to calling this stranger any sort of father) swept through town town in a fit of self-importance, leaving behing gifts from their recent Mexican holiday.

The dishes were barely dry and it was time for a seven-hour drive to upstate NY where my sister and I removed my father's car from his possession for his own safety (dementia has robbed him of his driving skills). We lied and said we accidentally crashed it but actually put it into storage. 

Holidays...what fun. But who had my back through all the bickering and tears? Rob. Gotta hand it to that guy. He's a good one to have aroun.

Friday morning and I'm giving thanks for Turkey Day with our best friends yesterday. Sam and I have lived a thousand miles or more from our families of origin for the last 14 Thanksgivings.

Getting back to our folks — especially now that it requires four tickets — is a once-every-few-years event. Out in Portland, where most of our closest friends are in the same gravy boat, we've done the traditional feast together sans the annual family drama almost every year.

Sometimes I miss my family, mourn the chance to have my kids hang out with their cousins, but when it comes right down to it, my favorite way to spend the holiday is right here with the extended family we've created.

And this year, our first year back together, it was nice to be on neutral ground. No moms or dads or in-laws for anyone to please. Where our kids may not have blood relatives, but they do have a circle of friends they've known since birth. And the same kind of familial love that goes with it.

Plus, we'll have enough of that next month.

Early morning I'm up before dawn, and up before the kids — trying to be up before them anyway. There bunked-up in the other room and their chatter is all holidays.

Roxie says, "And Hannukah, too, don't forget."

Lila says, "And Christmas is in Hannukah this year."

Then two little voices together: "And Grammy is coming!"

And I may not be excited about this with them, but I'm equally excited for them.

Some time ago I wrote about my disappointment over not being able to join my church's board of directors. I had been nominated by some people in the congregation but the pastor quietly removed my name from nominations because he knew about the marital problems. It hit me hard because I really wanted to join the board, and it ticked me off that my life was apparently such a mess that I couldn't be considered for the position. 

Fast forward to present day. I got a call from my pastor who told me that my name had come up again. He wanted to let the nomination go through, but he needed to know if I was ready. It was really a bizarre conversation.

Usually my pastor and I have a really easy rapport with each other but I could tell that he was uncomfortable. He started mumbling about how he wanted me on the board but people on the board have certain expectations, and while the church is not necessarily opposed to divorce I would be in the public eye.  I stopped him and said, "If you're asking if I'm going to divorce my husband anytime soon, the answer is no.  I can't guarantee you that I won't leave him in the near future, though." 

He accepted my answer and this Sunday I expect to be confirmed onto the board. 

I'm really pleased that I finally made it onto the board, but here is the thing: My pastor knows that my husband and I are on shaky ground. Heck, we've been trying to coordinate schedules for the past few months so that the three of us can get together for some marital counseling.

I don't really get why he would ask me a question that he kind of already knows the answer to. Maybe it was a formality, or maybe it was a veiled warning, something along the lines of "If you leave your husband, you're off the board." Trust me, though...if I leave my husband I think the church board will be the least of my problems.