Thanksgiving Week

I am currently housesitting for my real estate pal and former boss, Tessa, who is on her way over the river and through the woods. As I write this, one of her puppies is jumping, trying to get my attention. After all, Mama is gone and I am to take pity on the poor pooch and shower her with all sorts of affection--the way I've done for the past several hours. It is nice to have a quiet place to sit and enjoy myself for a few days. I appreciate having this time to introvert. 

The reason I am housesitting is because Tessa's regular housesitter is Polly, who happens to be five states away right now, hanging out with Sherman's family. According to the text she deigned to send me, the Sherman's are all "nice." And she is having a "good time." Oh, and she isn't crazy about Birmingham Alabama, which is where they stopped at some point during their road trip for whatever reason--but they aren't there now. Nonetheless, I can tell she's happy. And that makes me happy.

All this is to say, we held our Thanksgiving this past Saturday before Polly and Sherman took off. The turkey was tasty. The deviled eggs did NOT have sweet pickle relish in them. And there was a lot of laughing and gratitude aplenty around the table. But inside, I was a teensy bit sad. This might be one of the last times I have both my children at home for a holiday meal for a long while. Please understand, I'm not making premature plans or expecting some grand announcement from Polly. Buck has his own designs on his next life steps as well. Both are ready to spread their wings in whatever direction life is sending them, as they should be at their ages. 

Yesterday, the Sunshines went over to the Church of Christ their annual Thanksgiving chili dinner and "devotional service." To be fair, we didn't attend the meal because it was free--though that was a nice perk (no jobs currently on the horizon). Buck, who has been diligently attending the Church of Christ for the past year, ate with his friends. Marty (who knows a few folks and has come on occasion) ate with me and several Coronas. And then Buck ducked out and avoided the entire "devotional service." 

Unfortunately, I didn't adequately prepare Marty for what a "devotional service" might include (because I didn't know). So, we hung out for an hour, letting our food digest while the members of the congregation sang about 487 a capella hymns. The odds of getting Marty to go to another Church of Christ event are probably low at this point, but even he agrees that these are some of the nicest and most positive folks he's ever met. 

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. I'm going to leave Tessa's puppies for a while and head the three miles back to Arizona Avenue to hang with Marty and Buck. We'd bandied around the idea of splurging by going to the local IHOP for a holiday pancake meal. Marty and I also discussed taking Buck to Shreveport to an exceptional a really good a decent Mexican restaurant we'd discovered. However, in the end we decided we'd get a pizza, play cards, send weird texts to Polly, and be grateful our lives are good--after all, that's what the day is about. 

Happy Thanksgiving, y'all.