Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. Nothing but food, friends, family, and football. The only thing that could make the day better is if they played baseball, too, but I guess it's not only the wrong season but also the wrong first letter. Those four f's are since I became an adult- as a child, a happy holiday was not part of my family vernacular. Much too stressful, with a bi-polar alcoholic mother. Always a whole lot of yelling and crying and family drama and hatred. As an adult, I have tried very hard to live my life with as little drama as possible. My children were quite young when I got divorced, and after the first couple of split holidays, I decided I wanted to spend my holidays with them, not determine how to divide them. My kids only have one set of grandparents, since, thankfully, my parents have passed on, and I love my ex-in-laws. My ex-mother-in-law is honestly the mother I should have had. So, I usually spend Thanksgiving with my ex-in-laws. Including my ex-husband and his wife. I look forward to it; it's always a fun day of too much food, hanging out, and watching football.
This year was going to be different: I was going to spend Thanksgiving with my boyfriend's family.
They had rented a big house near my house, and his entire family was gathering for the weekend. I was invited to come stay and be a part of it.
Can you say "trepidation?'
My kids agreed to come for dinner the day after Thanksgiving, since they would go to their grandparent's house per usual. Which was good since my daughter was coming home from college for a couple of days, and planning to stay at my house, but I wasn't going to see too much of her.
My boyfriend, who is an excellent cook, was in charge of the bird and the stuffing. I was going to be one of his minions, and chop vegetables per his directions. I was also bringing side dishes: green beans, butternut squash, and yams.
It was a wonderful, long weekend. Everything went well. His family was lovely, the food was great, we all liked each other, they all liked my kids, my kids liked all of them, and we all gained at least 5 pounds each. No drama. My boyfriend and I still like each other, too.
Spending Thanksgiving with a new family was just the first in a series of changes for me. Because- I had finally gotten a new job and had given notice at the job from hell. My first day was going to be the Monday after Thanksgiving. I can't tell you how many years I had been waiting for that time when I would never have to go back to that office. Every winter for years, as the leaves would fall off the Persimmon tree next door, I would go into the back room and look at the ghostly tree laden with fruit against the cold, stormy sky and tell myself, "this is my last winter in this place." Finally, it was true.
I am readying a novel for publication. This is the best kind of stress I think you can have.
Now we get to the fifth F. Sunday morning, around 6:30 a.m., 4 inches of muddy water flooded my entire house during a monsoon. There was nothing, at first, then suddenly the water was pouring in, my boyfriend and I watching helplessly. My cat spit at it- she doesn't much like water. As I write this, loud fans are whirring all around me, and huge heaters are in both bedrooms. It is hot as sin in here, but I'm home with the nasty cat and I don't care about anything else. The house has been thoroughly cleaned, disinfected, and is drying out. My internet is working again. I got 5 seconds of fame when I was interviewed by a local TV station on what apparently was a slow news day. My furniture, mostly heavy old antiques, will be fine; those old pieces were made to last. My nasty cat is also fine.
So- I am thankful for many things. My kids, my boyfriend, my nasty cat, my friends, swimming, lifting, hot espresso, baseball, my new job that pays less money but has me working with kids again and with people who smile and are happy to see me every morning. I'm thankful because I have more time off with this job.
I'm thankful for my little house, slowly drying out. I'm really, really thankful because I didn't lose a singe pair of boots in the deluge.
The fifth F is (fu$%ing) flood.
This year was going to be different: I was going to spend Thanksgiving with my boyfriend's family.
They had rented a big house near my house, and his entire family was gathering for the weekend. I was invited to come stay and be a part of it.
Can you say "trepidation?'
My kids agreed to come for dinner the day after Thanksgiving, since they would go to their grandparent's house per usual. Which was good since my daughter was coming home from college for a couple of days, and planning to stay at my house, but I wasn't going to see too much of her.
My boyfriend, who is an excellent cook, was in charge of the bird and the stuffing. I was going to be one of his minions, and chop vegetables per his directions. I was also bringing side dishes: green beans, butternut squash, and yams.
It was a wonderful, long weekend. Everything went well. His family was lovely, the food was great, we all liked each other, they all liked my kids, my kids liked all of them, and we all gained at least 5 pounds each. No drama. My boyfriend and I still like each other, too.
Spending Thanksgiving with a new family was just the first in a series of changes for me. Because- I had finally gotten a new job and had given notice at the job from hell. My first day was going to be the Monday after Thanksgiving. I can't tell you how many years I had been waiting for that time when I would never have to go back to that office. Every winter for years, as the leaves would fall off the Persimmon tree next door, I would go into the back room and look at the ghostly tree laden with fruit against the cold, stormy sky and tell myself, "this is my last winter in this place." Finally, it was true.
I am readying a novel for publication. This is the best kind of stress I think you can have.
Now we get to the fifth F. Sunday morning, around 6:30 a.m., 4 inches of muddy water flooded my entire house during a monsoon. There was nothing, at first, then suddenly the water was pouring in, my boyfriend and I watching helplessly. My cat spit at it- she doesn't much like water. As I write this, loud fans are whirring all around me, and huge heaters are in both bedrooms. It is hot as sin in here, but I'm home with the nasty cat and I don't care about anything else. The house has been thoroughly cleaned, disinfected, and is drying out. My internet is working again. I got 5 seconds of fame when I was interviewed by a local TV station on what apparently was a slow news day. My furniture, mostly heavy old antiques, will be fine; those old pieces were made to last. My nasty cat is also fine.
So- I am thankful for many things. My kids, my boyfriend, my nasty cat, my friends, swimming, lifting, hot espresso, baseball, my new job that pays less money but has me working with kids again and with people who smile and are happy to see me every morning. I'm thankful because I have more time off with this job.
I'm thankful for my little house, slowly drying out. I'm really, really thankful because I didn't lose a singe pair of boots in the deluge.
The fifth F is (fu$%ing) flood.
