Home is wherever I'm with you.

My hometown is, was, and forever will be sleepy little Stuart, FL.

But to me, home feels like a lot of different things. 

Home feels like an apartment overflowing with popcorn, Diet Coke, and country music videos.

 Home feels like listening to Wagon Wheel. Over, and over, and over. 

Home feels like seeing a beat up old truck decorated with an American flag sticker and a Martin County license plate. 

Home feels like the first glimpse of the Blue Ridge mountain range after a road trip full of Chick-Fil-A and Johnny Cash. 

But mostly, home feels like being surrounded by the people that laugh at my corny jokes, don't judge me for not washing my hair for 5 days, and tell me to straighten up when I'm acting like a grouchy brat.

Yep, that's family.  

This week home was Thanksgiving in Dothan, Alabama. 

Nope, I didn't get a fancy new camera. But I did get a fancy new iPhone and I had way too much fun with the Instagram app. 

Home was a kitchen full of perfecting family recipes and experimenting with new ones.

When life doesn't give you enough lemons...or limes...

Startin' em young.
(In the mixing bowl: Mama's Hashbrown Casserole. Major yums.) 

Home was a week-long(ish) slumber party with the best brothers and cousins a gal could ask for. 

#airmattresslife

Home was cruisin' around the farm on four wheels. Or four legs. Whatever.

(The following pictures were taken by Aunt Tracy and her out-of-this-world-awesome camera. Not my iPhone.)

I literally got to ride a horse into the sunset. And yes, it kind of made me feel like a Disney princess. 

"I need to start doing this more often. I mean the horses are in my backyard and all..." -Ethan

Home was constantly being entertained my father, the king of one-liners. 

Somebody, please, get that man a Twitter! 

Papa Jeff on Black Friday shopping: "I'm just gonna sit here and see how long it takes for somebody to want to take a Santa picture with me."
(PS: Nobody did. Better luck next time, padre.)

Home was football. 

SO. MUCH. FOOTBALL. 

(and we wouldn't have it any other way.)

What Thanksgiving is complete without a little backyard football action?

Iron Bowl 2011...
War eagle anyway. 

Great 'stache, bro.
(PS. I had my FSU tank on underneath my Auburn shirt. Easy transition for the back-to-back games.)
(PS again: SEMINOLES RULE, GATORS DROOL.)

And home was all the random snippets of memories that can't really be categorized. 

No caption necessary. 

Dothan, Alabama trying their best to overcome racial stereotypes. 

Our family can't cross the state line without bringing home some kind of animal.
Pictured: Ally (as in Ally-bama) the Walmart parking lot pup. 

 So yeah. Basically, I love my family. 

Because home wouldn't be anywhere or anything without them.

(PS. Somehow Mom, Nanny, Stephen, or Uncle Ric didn't make it into any of the pictures worth posting. Sorry folks! Get ready for a paparazzi at Christmas.)

Title reference: Home by Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros. 

But you should really listen to this version. It's way cuter.