Author Anne Lamott has this to say about the "p" word:
“Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor, the enemy of the people. It will keep you cramped and insane your whole life...”
So...Thanksgiving, in a less than perfect post:
The THREE of us (Big C is a college freshman now...with a car...and a schedule of his own) traveled back to my home, in Western Kentucky, as is our custom. My Dad holds space for us to be together, whoever WE might be, in a great big house he insists on calling a cabin on Kentucky Lake. My brother and his sweet family came this year, an unusual occurrence. Big C met us there. My aunt and uncle and my cousin live near by. Other loved ones didn't make it this year....we'll keep our fingers crossed for next year.
I usually assist my Dad with the turkey but this year I assisted my brother who has a knack in the kitchen. He turned out a really fine bird....very pretty AND tasty!
We took walks in the woods before and after we ate cherry pie. Three of 'em, to be exact. Pies, that is. The dogs swam in the lake.
I brought homemade blackberry jam and my brother made biscuits for breakfast.
Little c and her cousins played with dolls and made quilt forts.
Harper the Dog wrestled day and night with my brother's dog and my Dad bought some dog bowls to keep at the cabin because "we have dogs now."
My cousin brought her new baby who looks just like she did as a baby. I kept saying that until someone found old photos to prove it! We all passed the baby around, admired her kick ass shoes and made silly faces to amuse her.
My aunt made her famous artichoke dip AND she made her famous spinach dip AND she made a fuss over the "cowboy candy" I brought for the first time this year....I gave her the rest of the jar to take home with her. Her mama came to dinner too. Generations of Us.
We listened to old songs on a fancy new speaker we could all control from our phones (FUN!) and found some new (warning: not fit for all audiences!) favorites.
On the day after Thanksgiving, we moved the stack of pies and coconut cake off the counter to make room for leftovers. Left down low, my brother's dog helped himself to a 1/4 of a triple layer coconut cake AND the plastic wrap that was covering it. In about 2 bites. While no one was looking. And no one got pissy. EVEN though we really, REALLY like the coconut cake my aunt buys from the Senior Citizens Holiday Bake Sale.
We drank craft beer and lots of wine and tea, iced and hot. Michael fixed us oatmeal for breakfast. We talked about getting older and growing up. Maybe. Someday. We fell asleep early and woke up early and finally managed to stay up til 10:30 on the last night.
Dad's wife left early to catch a plane because her new grandbaby was born! On my niece's birthday! We all relived our labor and birth stories in solidarity.
My dear friend sent an email that she lost her mother that night.
My sister in law knitted an Outlander inspired cowl for me. Lickety split! I showed her how to crochet like my Granny showed me. Well, not that good but as good as I know how.
My dad saw a coyote.
I made sure we had too much butter and no one let me forget it.
The turkey brine leaked all over the made-one-day-ahead sweet potato casserole.
I FORGOT my camera (but my uncle loaned me his!).
I thought I found a geode, but it was just a rock.
I had one job for the day-before-Thanksgiving-last-minute-go-to-the-Wal-Mart-trip.....keep charge of the list. So I left it lying on my bed when I ran back to my bedroom to grab my phone. Wal-Mart isn't exactly close to the cabin. My brother took a picture of it and emailed it to Michael. Whew.
We remembered family sorrows and we were somber.
We poked fun at one another.
We laughed. A lot.
If perfectionism is the enemy, I am so glad we had a less than perfect Thanksgiving. But it seemed pretty perfect to me.
Blessings to all ya'll.
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