I took a chunk out of my knee in the shower this morning because I am super smart. I bled for a good half hour and knew that I probably needed a stitch, because, well, of course I did. It was Thanksgiving, and all I could think in that very moment was that I wished my father had been there. It was an unsurprising wish really, being that it was Thanksgiving and it wouldâ€”obviouslyâ€”have been nice to have spent it with my family. But, alas, if I’m being honest, I really wanted him there because the last place I wanted to be on Thanksgiving was sitting in the ER waiting to be seen, and when your father is a doctor, he can do things like stitch you right up just like he’s lacing your shoelaces.
(Why didn’t I marry a doctor?)
(Oh right. Because while I was bleeding through $27 worth of Barbie bandaids, my non-doctor husband was downstairs with his hand up our 20-pound turkey’s keester and was filling it with aromatics made of pumpkin chai tea leaves.)
(He is kind of a genius. Also, he fixes all of my computers when I break them. Even the Macs, which he so adorably calls Macintoshs.)
I may have finally stopped bleeding, and now Miss Emily and I have matching holes in our knees from that time that she fell on the ice and probably needed a stitch because, well, of course she didÂ but I was home alone and didn’t want to spend hours in an ER and wished that my father had been there then too.
So, I have a hole in my knee. And I probably need some leg-shaving lessons. And I didn’t have my dad around on Thanksgiving.
But I did get to spend it with people I love; people who have never experienced a real Thanksgiving meal that includes bread and turkey and challah stuffing and gravy and mashed potatoes and peas and sweet potato pie and pumpkin pie and apple crumble.
(It’s like they are pod people or something.)
But, I cooked and cooked and cooked. And thenÂ shoveledÂ all that goodness into my gob and then went back for seconds and then, burp, thirds. I didn’t let this weird heatwave stop me, and I didn’t let the October Thanksgiving stop me, And I didn’t let my sickie stop me and I didn’t even let the fact that there was only Canadian football on my tv stop me.
(Three downs, people. Three. WHAT?)
Thanksgiving is Thanksgiving and even though Canadians do it differently, I was going to do it the same. And y’all, it’s so nice that I’m going to do it twice.
It’s not wrong to sit and be thankful more than once a year, right?
I mean, even though I will be spending non-Black Tuesday at work tomorrow instead of Black Friday running around the mall and Target, I am still thankful for so many things. I’m thankful for Barbie band-aids and the ability to clot. I’m thankful that my husband loves to cook…and even cleans up sometimes. I’m thankful for the ability to take e-books out from the library. I’m thankful that I no longer crave diet coke. I’m thankful for Instagram. I’m thankful for cardigans and skinny jeans and colored tights and mary janes. I’m thankful for the health of 1.5 of my children and am thankful for fever reducers and cough expectorants. I’m thankful for movies like Anchorman. I’m thankful for google, so we can settle arguments in a timely fashion. I’m thankful for quirkiness. I’m thankful that my children have three sets of grandparents. I’m thankful for skype. I’m thankful for sarcasm and orange tic tacs and mint-flavored gum and the smell of laundry. I’m thankful for The History Channel. I’m thankful for good coffee in the morning and good tea in the afternoon. I’m thankful that my husband is anti-cruise and anti-raisin. I’m thankful for good grammar. I’m thankful for ecommerce. I’m thankful for small Indie bands that no one has ever heard of. I’m thankful that my husband doesn’t mind my hipster ways. I’m thankful that my husband and I are employed. I’m thankful for Gap city flats. I’m thankful for donuts. I’m thankful for anti-bacterial hand gel. I’m thankful that my panty-eating puppy hasn’t eaten any panties this year. I’m thankful for dresses with pockets. I’m thankful the ability to discover new music. I’m thankful for the three little monsters who call ma Mama. I’m thankful for my family. I’m thankful for my friends who are family.
Yes, I think twice a year will do just fine.
And maybe I’ll even add a third one in the Spring, just for kicks.
(It’s calledÂ El Malaguena. It’s for Spanish Jews.)
(I’m also thankful for movie quotes. Hee.)