While I was double-cutting my lawn yesterday (it’s beautiful, a swatch of green amongst a sea of leaves), I realized that today would be the beginning of November. No big surprise there. However, it is just about my favorite month of the year, mainly for Thanksgiving. I love Turkey Day. Love it. It is like Christmas without all the bullshit, plus it has football.
I was ready for Halloween to be over yesterday. I had some good fun and all, but after the fat teenagers came to my door around 8:30 looking for candy, it was time to stop. Time for turkey, I say.
This year, my in-laws will be out of town during the holiday, which might make most couples happy, not having to go to two meals in one day. Not me. I thought I died and went to heaven stuffing my face like that twice in one day.
Let’s not forget the day after Thanksgiving. While the lemmings herd to the mall, I stay in and eat more turkey and more stuffing, preferably while watching more football and drinking more beer. Usually, I’m surrounded by family while indulging all damn day. It is beautiful. I just feel warm and loved as the temperature drops and the gluttony begins for a day or two, because everyone is sharing in this remarkable feast. I wish I could cook, because I would cook a feast like this for our families without hesitation. It would be the ultimate wish fulfillment for me. I would be Thanksgiving.
Sorry. That got weird, didn’t it?
Well, this year after I get done with NaNoWriMo, I’ll probably be very thankful.
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