I confess to some weepiness at the start of my Thanksgiving day. Not depressed, grim, grey-cloud waah-waaahing with no endpoint in sight — more like a brief squall of hot, healthy, let-it-out tears, tears that I have shed the past four Thanksgivings. Simply put, I miss things. Our family used to have a wonderful beach house, in which we would often celebrate the holidays. My mom loved Thanksgiving in particular; it was kind of a lower-level holiday in her book, so it was a much more relaxed, less planned and more congenial time for all.

Mom has been gone for nearly five years; my dad, over a year; the beach house for exactly three — it was sold on Thanksgiving day. These are weird vacancies in my heart to which I still am adjusting. And, let’s face it, from the data I’ve collected, I will forever be adjusting.

I am doing a good job of forging new paths and creating new traditions and making workarounds, as it were. A nice thing: my desire to feel festive this time of year is coming back, like tingly, newly regenerated nerves. Ow! Yay!

Oh, dear. I just wanted to talk about my wacky fun day, and here I go, with the sad. Awkward! Anyway, I had a great day on Thursday, really I did. At the first gathering, I made a really good gravy — a skill my mother taught my cooking-impaired self many years ago. It was so tasty we all raised a glass in her honor. Go Maggie! I then spent several hours shoveling the best of the Thankgivingy taste sensations into my mouth. And then I only lost $5 playing poker, which is like winning to someone less card-impaired.

A couple glasses of wine later, it was time to toddle to gathering #2. Basking in yet more fabulous company, I helped meself to another plate of delicious food, then to pies that were baked by heaven’s angels themselves. Also, there was mead! Champagne! Absinthe! Absinthe mixed with champagne! Uh oh, time to lie on the couch!

The party train was an express roundtrip of fun. Back I went to gathering #1 for a nightcap and a ridiculous round of Balderdash, and more mead. What’s up with the mead madness? So out it’s in again. Let’s bring back other stuff from the 500 ADs. Visigoths in the house, yo! Balderdash is the fake-definition-for-a-real-word game (usually known as “Dictionary”). The wee-hour delirium caused us to become hysterical over “a decorative stool ruffle” and “the web of a monkey spider”. You had to be there.

No, really, you should have been there. Good gravy!

nablopomo 07 day 24