It started in kindergarten with pens and ink pots and blotting paper. Since then I've loved writing. Transferring the noise in my head to paper calms the chaos. If a worthwhile thought occasionally emerges, I'll keep it here with memories, stories and other random trivia, of interest mainly to myself and, with a bit of luck, to the odd passerby.
Thursday, November 23, 2017
It rained today.
Mother Nature humoring those who still can't get their heads around Thanksgiving by the pool. Normally I would not be writing today. I'd be juggling the mashed potatoes, the creamed spinach, the stuffing, the gravy, the cole slaw, the sweet potato casserole, the orange-cranberry sauce and the pies, timing everything to be ready at the same time, while the OC performed grill magic on the turkey in the sunshine.
But today - no sunshine, no children, no grandchildren, no neighbors or friends, just us two. So we made a daring decision - eat out. First time in 47 years. I hope my mother-in-law was not watching from up there. She'd surely think I was sinking to new depths.
We did make pies though. You gotta have pies - Sweet Potato and Bourbon Pecan.
I don't think we'll make a habit of it. I can still hope for a few Thanksgivings, before the jig is up, where we might, by some miracle, have all our children and grandchildren around the table once more.
Overheard at the library recently...
"How are you?" said she.
"Grateful," said he.
I stopped in my tracks. Most of us are not looking for a full organ recital when we ask that question, but what a better answer than the usual "Fine thanks," or "Great thanks, or "Been better," or "So-so."
I think I'll adopt it.
I don't always remember to be grateful. So much easier to have a little moan.
And there's a lot of moaning going around in recent months.
This was a one-word reminder that there is as much to be thankful for as there is to moan about.