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I just took a little jaunt down the memory lane of Thanksgivings past here on Reticulated Writer. I started doing NaBloPoMo in 2011, so that's how far back the Thanksgiving posts go. If I weren't doing this crazy "blog post a day" thing, I certainly wouldn't make an effort to crank out a Thanksgiving blog post after a long day of cooking, cleaning, eating, playing games, watching Netflix in a stupor, and cleaning up dog pee taking care of a new puppy.
I'm glad I started doing it though, because I enjoyed looking back and remembering what made each of those Thanksgivings special. Last year I was working on my new house, trying to get it ready to move into. I was painting and packing and hauling until I dropped every day, but I took off Thanksgiving to spend the day with kids and friends. I had hoped to get into my new house by Thanksgiving, but it was a couple of weeks later before that happened.
The year before that was a difficult year, a year of betrayals. It hurt for a minute, but I just invited new friends to dinner and started making new traditions. Funny how much even a traditional holiday can change in only two short years. I never forget betrayal, but one thing I've worked on unpacking this past year is knowing what's my business and what is not. Other people have to live with their actions, but I don't have to let them camp out in my head. A lesson to give thanks for.
In 2012, I butchered turkeys. Turns out that was a one-time Thanksgiving event, but one I'm still glad I participated in. I have to admit, it's much easier and causes less mess to buy the turkey at Kroger a few days before. It doesn't give me much to write about though.
Today we celebrated our first Thanksgiving in my new house. I'm still working out the kinks, but it went pretty well. I need to buy a big dining room table with 3 or 4 leaves, but a new dishwasher, a gas fireplace, and some storm windows come before that. Owning a new old house means I never run out of things I need or want to buy.
Finally, this is Doc's first year with me. Poor little guy. He got thrown headfirst into his new family yesterday. He's doing OK though. He cried a lot last night and this morning unless I was holding him, but he's settling in. One guest or another held him most of the afternoon, except while we ate, but he's spent the evening on the floor next to the couch where I'm sitting. I hope he sleeps tonight, because I am exhausted.
As the night winds down, I've got the turkey carcass on a slow simmer in the roaster so I can extend the holiday into winter with some turkey soup. The dishes are mostly washed -- thanks to an assembly line of guests. The refrigerator is filled with leftovers. And even the dogs enjoyed the trimmings off the bird. Plans were made for Christmas dinner, but I'm not looking that far ahead tonight.
Here's wishing you a happy and contented Thanksgiving. However you spent the day, I hope you found something to be grateful for. I am grateful for a holiday that's only about gratitude. Yeah, I know a lot of people have made it about shopping for Christmas, but I've never done that. I'll pay more just to keep the holiday of thanksgiving pure.
It's Feminism Friday! And I have a witty, bitter-like-strong-Ethiopian-coffee post running on the hamster wheel in my head. It's been there all week. But speaking of the week, it's been a rough one. Some good things, sure. A friend took me out to dinner. Drake and Montana showed up for an unexpected weekend visit tonight. A friend bailed me out and took me to pick up my van at the shop after I'd decided I'd have to take a cab. I made two pots of soup (more on soup in a later post).
It's also been a rough week. People in my life are tense. We got our first light snow of what promises to be a long season. One of my favorite students was whisked back to Canada by her family with little notice, and won't be coming back. Another was taken out to homeschool with one of those awful online charter schools, and although I homeschooled my kids for 12 years and I fully support it, I don't think it's best for her. Losing two of my best writers in one week sucks. I'm going to miss both of them. My van needed some repairs, and it was a dramatic pain in the ass. Other drama happened with other people and situations, and then some more drama. Most of it was simply a matter of intolerance or people not minding their own damn business.
Speaking of times when I wish I could mind my own business, I can't get those greasy photos of Kim what's-her-name out of my head, and I don't understand why so many words are wasted on her. She's got a big ass. So what. We have to look at photos of it all covered in oily oil? What has she ever done to make her ass so important?
The bottom line is that I don't want to dive into a rant about a ridiculous comment a ridiculous man left here earlier this week. because I've had enough unpleasantness for one week. I will though, and soon. Just not tonight.
Tonight I'm probably going to jinx myself, but I'm going to introduce you to the little guy who I think will be my new canine companion. I wrote about my dog dilemma a few months ago, and I've continued to struggle with it. I won't rehash that because the pros and cons remain the same.
But .... I hate to admit this .... I've been feeling lonely lately. I'm not sure why, because it's not really like me. I'm too busy to feel lonely, or bored for that matter. But I have been. I've even left a couple of social occasions because I felt lonely in a crowd of people. Once I apparently really hurt and pissed off someone I consider a good friend, and the other time I'd paid to be there but I left before dinner. I doubt anybody noticed, but the idea of having someone to come home to -- even a non-human someone -- seemed like a good solution to the problem.
So I got serious about the search for a new standard poodle (spoo). I dug through lots of ads for really expensive, pedigreed, fancy pups. I sent out a few emails to the ones that were in my price range within 3 hours distance. And I'm pretty sure I've found him.
His name is Henry now, but I'm going to call him Doc. I don't know why. I've just had that name in my head for my next dog for a long time. He'll be ready to come and live with me Thanksgiving weekend. He lives 3 hours away, but Montana and Drake live close to him, so they'll probably go introduce themselves sooner.
Here's another photo of him with his sire. How fucking adorable is that?
I hope I'm not jumping the gun by sharing this so soon, but I'm excited. I'm ready for a new man to come into my life, even if he is a furry little guy who will only end up weighing about 65 pounds. It's time.
I've also decided to acquire a new boyfriend. Not one made of flesh and bone and corpuscles, but the one who lives in my imagination. The one who's more likely to become manifest in my life than any real man. I don't have a name for him yet, and I'm not even sure what he looks like. But he's there just hanging out with my Muse Dolores, waiting to become my imaginary lover.
More on both of my new guys in posts to come. I'll let you know which one pees on the floor first.
