Here we are, friends, in the bosom of the suburbs in which I grew on this grand Dia de Accion de Gracias. Thanksgiving, for the white folks in the audience. Waiting to eat barbequed turkey with the "rents" and an old flame from high school, Hottie Hotstein, who cordially agreed to join us now that our other guests, my father's secretary, had her baby yesterday.
We aren't big on family get-togethers in these parts, which is why I mention the secretaty vs. Hottie Hotstein's invitation. They involve a lot of Jesus talk and NO ALCOHOL on one side [a minor level of hell, if you haven't experienced it before], or a long-ass plane ride and lot of Swedish-to-English translation on the other. (Didn't know Center was a swede eh? Well, now wrap your head around the part of me that is also latino and from the same side paternally).
Yes, Pops likes to b-b-que the bird, and for this purpose has bought the biggest damn barbeque I have ever seen. This is not one of your pansy-assed gas or propane filled, turn a switch, set the timer, watch tv and wait for the "ding!" kinda grills. This looks like something medieval lords would roast whole deers on. This require the kinda charcoal you can only get in latino supermarkets where the USDA fears to tread. Cowboys in Texas would remove their hats in reverance in front of this grill. It even has it's own smoke-stack.
I shall soon be exchanging my vitamin C filled juice for something with more of a kick, but in the sober meantime, here is what I give thanks for today:
1. To whom ever was sick on the plane, thank you for this burgeoning head cold. I blow snot in your general direction.
2.For my boss, who let me take many days off, so that in the past two weeks, I have only worked 6 days.
3. For my friends, upon my arrival from last weekends vacation, so lovingly told me the guy I was not quite really dating no longer wants to really quite date anymore. (Don't worry dear Dr. Gino, this was only for comedic purposes. I never lie when I tell a man who wants to be my friend that this is cool and I never the truth when I tell a man I want to be his friend because its me not him.)
Actually, in the spirit of the holiday-music which is now wafting through my house, (thank you Winter Solstice for meeting my parents all those years ago), if it weren't for my friends, I would possibly be a little bit more sane, true, but never quite as happy with my life. As The Analyst so put it, "Running from Johnny Law. This ain't no trip to Cleveland."
4. For Pops and Moms who in the grand tradition of family-ness, fought this morning over the heaviness of each's home-made bread and to whom I replied "Do not worry, dear parent o'mine, Jesus shall give us the bread we need for life."
4. And for the hearty chuckle this raised in all of us.
My therapist and I both agree that no one really likes turkey. Poopy McSchmoopy my old, fat, lazy dog, likes to eat grapes. We had burritos for dinner last night.
Happy Thanksgiving to one and all. May the sedatives found in your bird give you a pleasant buzz.
Love, The Center of the Universe