Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours. I trust all three of my readers had a fantastic holiday! We certainly did in our family.

My husband suggested a few days ago that we run a 5K on Thanksgiving morning. Not an organized one--he wanted to go out and run the distance as a family. Because he's here on TDY (temporary duty), we live in a small apartment with a cramped kitchen, and most of our belongings are in storage, awaiting our arrival in Mississippi come March. To me, this meant I wasn't cooking Thanksgiving dinner. Since I had no excuse, like, I don't know, having to spend the morning with my hand shoved inside a dead turkey, I ran a 5K with my husband, boys in tow in the double stroller. I don't know if I've ever run that far in my life. Seriously! And as soon as my hips recover, I'm sure I'd like to try it again.

We had a fantastic dinner at the Officers Club this afternoon. Now, the Officers Club was a big part of my growing up. Every base my dad was ever stationed at had a top notch club. My siblings and I spent countless Sunday afternoons making lunch out of the toppings on the Belgian waffle bar at the O-Club while our parents and their friends lingered over conversation and coffee for hours after church. This was back in the day before people dressed for church like they dress to go to the mall. It was a classy affair.

Ever since I've been married, we've been stationed at bases with disappointing clubs. Well, except for our short tenure in Mississippi a few years back. The bases have succumbed to this disturbing trend of building a generic chain of restaurants called "J.R. Rockers", which is basically a poor man's version of Fuddruckers, and they try to pass it off as a club. I say keep your greasy chicken fingers and red pleather and give me fussy wallpaper and crystal and eggs benedict.

But this base has an old school, old Air Force Officers Club. The kind where you walk in and feel like the character Rhoda Henry from Herman Wouk's novels The Winds of War and War and Remembrance. Okay, fine, I've never read them--I've only seen the miniseries on DVD. Totally worth watching if you haven't seen it. I digress. Rhoda is a veritable 1940s military wife socialite. She wears hats and gloves and red lipstick. She's a lady who lunches and she frequents the club. When we walked in and I saw a champagne fountain next to the hostess stand, I knew we were in for a great experience. We weren't disappointed. There were huge fresh floral arrangements everywhere, musicians playing American jazz standards, and a gorgeous buffet. The waitress kept the champagne flowing, and everything tasted delicious.

Because Luke has been known to embarrass us from time to time, we warned him in the car that he was to use his best manners, not to cry or scream, and to use his fork. I must say, he sure did listen, because he was a delightful boy, even if he did eat strawberries and nothing else for his Thanksgiving dinner. He was really thoughtful the whole time, wanting to make it a great dining experience for everyone. For example, he rested his spoon on a piece of bread that Joe had buttered for him, then picked it up and asked so pleasantly, "Would you wike to wick the butter off my spoon?" When Joe said no thanks, Luke thought even harder about how he could enhance his pleasure. Picking up a packet of sugar, he asked, "Would you wike some sugar on your gween beans?" He was also very concerned about those around us. When the couple at the table next to us got up, he asked (very loudly), "Where are they going, Mommy? Are they going potty?" At one point, he even told me that I'm handsome. Um, thanks?...

As we made our way to the car, the retired colonel for whom the club is named and his wife were getting into their car, and gave our boys some generous compliments. I was very proud, and then she gave me a blessing, of sorts. Okay, not a blessing, but, well, I don't know what to call it. She said, "The happiest days of your life are the day you give birth to them and the day they move out." Well, I don't know about the latter part. I don't want these boys to grow up and leave me. All-day kindergarten sounds kind of neat, though!

Anyway, it was a beautiful holiday to reflect on what we are thankful for. Happy Thanksgiving, and may the "White Christmas" and "It's a Wonderful Life" season commence!