This year Thanksgiving was a total success. No sickness to take us down, we were a crew of entirely healthy adults and kids, the universe was looking down on us.
I was thankful for many things this weekend….
To my neighbor Mike for keeping his fridge bare so that I didn’t have to store my Thanksgiving dishes on a windowsill.
For the same neighbor for bringing me flowers on Thanksgiving day. Even after I’d banged on his front door and dragged him out of his shower to unlock it. (For future reference, Mike, please don’t lock your door on Thanksgiving day. That episode gave me an ulcer and female pattern baldness all at once. But thank you, as always, for lending me some of your fridge space.)
I was thankful that Rodney didn’t see me jam my butter-lathered hands up a turkey’s rear end while still wearing my wedding ring. I’m likewise thankful that even after all of the butt jamming, I still couldn’t find the gizzard bag. It’s a Thanksgiving tradition for me to cook the turkey with the bag still inside, and as you all know, it’s best not to muck with tradition.
I was thankful for our new thrift store art that makes me so joyously happy every day. Even if the kids keep bumping into it and making it ever so slightly off-kilter. At least it’s less aggravating than the Sharpie line drawing that now covers our faux Eames rocking chair.
