So before we got all distracted by my hair

So before we got all distracted by my hair (which I haven't been 100% convinced either way, so I'll have to dye again just out of sheer habit until I do decide) I had slipped in that little nugget of info about The Thing & I going to see Fred & Wilma this Christmas.
Side note to the commenter who suggested the hotel; first, I'd rather chew off my own leg and eat that for Christmas dinner then spend more then a couple of hours with my parents so you can imagine the chances of an overnight stay. Second, they live less then 15 minutes from my house.

So anyway...

The Thing wants to meet my parents.
I've tried to explain to him for the last year that it really isn't necessary and if he'd like a brush with pure evil couldn't we just go to Vegas or something. But no, he says he loves me and thereby wants to meet the people responsible for having unprotected sex and thus thrusting me in to existence. As if that had anything to do with anything...
Besides, I don't think he believes me.
Don't get me wrong, he doesn't think I'm lying, per se. He thinks I'm exaggerating. Which is actually the same thing, when you get right down to it, but Thing is really good in bed so I'm going to let that slide.

So when I received an emailed Christmas dinner invitation (something Wilma did last Christmas as well because that's when my out-of-state siblings come home. she can't appear the good guy if she doesn't invite me when witnesses will be there. The fact that we live a few miles apart and she never sees or speaks to me, I guess we aren't supposed to notice) The Thing suggested we accept so that he could finally meet them.
Which was/is a total blackmailing trick on his part. I didn't get my Thing for Christmas last year, which you may remember upset me a great deal so there's the tradeoff...he's offering to give up his family at Christmas this year to spend it with mine unawares that mine are truly evil. ::sigh:: Only for him would I do this. Because he asked. I'll regret it and he will as well, but I'll do it because I love him. Plus, it will prove my point.

You see, the thing with The Thing is, he's had a very nice life, with very nice parents, in a very nice neighborhood, going to very nice schools with very nice people. True, not everything was perfect - I mean, his parents don't even have a white picket fence for Pete's Sake! - but he had it pretty damn easy.
And by 'easy' I mean, his father isn't an illiterate bigot who refuses to medicate his Bi-Polar disorder and his mother isn't evil.

Courtesy of Dictionary.com
adj.
Morally bad or wrong; wicked:
Causing ruin, injury, or pain; harmful:
Characterized by or indicating future misfortune; ominous:
Characterized by anger or spite; malicious:

n.
The quality of being morally bad or wrong; wickedness.
That which causes harm, misfortune, or destruction:
Something that is a cause or source of suffering, injury, or destruction:

Take your pick. You just met Wilma.

While Thing's mom (as well as every other mom in the universe) has some annoying habits, he has no concept that some moms aren't capable of loving their children. I could tell you stories that would make you cry, make you pissed, or make your jaw drop but I really don't have to...because I already kind of have. You see, most girls grow up to marry their Dad. I married my Mom.

And here is where I originally intended on ending this post; three weeks before Thanksgiving and I had already begun to dread Christmas. But Thing was up this weekend so I got a well deserved rest and mucho snuggles. Though a little chilly, the sun was out all weekend, it was beautiful and we took the kids out & about a lot. Yesterday, I had my first Red Robin hamburger (while very tasty, if I ever spend $9 on a cheeseburger again, please shove a fork in my head) and got a lot of ideas for Christmas presents from the various stores we wandered through. We ended up in Borders of course, because we all read like it's going out of style, and discovered I could cancel Christmas dinner.

Because we ran right smack in to Fred & Wilma.