My present Thanksgiving is very different from the one I celebrated as a child.
My mother made so much food, even Shrek would have been popping Tumms.
What comes to mind besides, we could have used a vomitorium is, we never, ever said grace.
Play ball, would have been more the norm after, is the bar open yet?
We then slept it off, just to wake up and start feasting all over again.
The first thing I did when opening my eyes this morning, was to thank God for my many blessings, from heat and hot water, to the few friends I have, along with what’s left of my brain capacity.
Even Patrick, the cat, who was scratching at the door, made the list.
When I let him in, he ran around the apartment like he got into his dad’s pillbox again.
Once he ate a Valium and slept for 3 days.
But I decided it was his way of saying, thanks, for all the tuna and sardines, snuggles and pets, and our ongoing friendship.
I just happened to have had salmon for two, a gift from an admirer in the fridge (I know…whatever happened to flowers and candy), so though it was a mere 4 a.m., me and Pat gave thanks, and actually played ball, before having our Thanksgiving breakfast.
I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves.
My eBooks, A New York Diary, Model Behavior: Friends For Life and Notes From A Working Cat can be found on Amazon.com. Thanks.