Thanksgiving dinners take eighteen hours to prepare. They are consumed in twelve minutes. Half-times take twelve minutes. This is not coincidence. ~~ Erma Bombeck
I have no Thanksgiving leftovers in the traditional sense. Hit the road with Buster and enjoyed a feast with the Amazon Grandchild. She is growing and glowing and I realize that time slides quickly holiday by holiday when you are watching a young child grow. I didn't have seconds, resisted the multiple pies in my quest to be rid of pants with elastic waistlines, and arrived home safely. No rain, no bad road conditions, just the low hanging post-full moon golden on the horizon to guide me and Buster down the yellow brick road. There's no place like home.
No, my leftovers are the mental residue, the crumbs that linger and must be shaken out before they stake a claim on real estate in my brain. After living well over five decades, I am now at capacity and only capable of infill development. Grow up, not out.
Holidays have not been the same now that I'm solo. They signal the end of the year, another birthday and a time to try to keep looking forward. Still, I'm finding things to be thankful for - reconnections, a President who is intelligent and not prone to Palinesque outbursts, sufficiency, digital cameras, a challenging job, and a faithful furry companion. For now, that's enough. Sufficiency and simplicity.
The aroma of spice and cinnamon fills the house, the lights are about to go up, the tree about to be assembled. All's well in this little corner of the world. Time to buckle up and brave the shopping madness.
What I wouldn't give to happen upon a random act of culture like this one while shopping. It takes me back to a simpler time. A glorious complex choral piece, memories of practices starting in college through my various incarnations and life seasons - a gentle thread. The pleasure of lifting a voice as part of something larger. Unplugged and each a contributor. The sounds of the season. Giving thanks.
Holidays have not been the same now that I'm solo. They signal the end of the year, another birthday and a time to try to keep looking forward. Still, I'm finding things to be thankful for - reconnections, a President who is intelligent and not prone to Palinesque outbursts, sufficiency, digital cameras, a challenging job, and a faithful furry companion. For now, that's enough. Sufficiency and simplicity.
The aroma of spice and cinnamon fills the house, the lights are about to go up, the tree about to be assembled. All's well in this little corner of the world. Time to buckle up and brave the shopping madness.
What I wouldn't give to happen upon a random act of culture like this one while shopping. It takes me back to a simpler time. A glorious complex choral piece, memories of practices starting in college through my various incarnations and life seasons - a gentle thread. The pleasure of lifting a voice as part of something larger. Unplugged and each a contributor. The sounds of the season. Giving thanks.
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