A month of thankfulness – days 22 through 26

Did you see what I just did? I skipped days 22 through 25.

Nobody notices the maid until the toilet doesn’t get cleaned.

The 22nd was Thanksgiving Day.

Every Thanksgiving, I do the exact same thing with the exact same people. I go to my friends Kate and Jerry’s and we have the exact same meal.

Everybody contributes the same thing every year that they contributed the year before. For me, that means bleu cheese terrine, which, for the record, I hate. It stinks and it tastes strong. They love it.

My friend Greta taught me to make bleu cheese terrine. That’s not all Greta taught me, thought. The first year we were in our office here, we threw a Christmas party, and for the first time in over a decade, it snowed in December in Atlanta. Only a handful of people came. Greta was one of them.

We were talking about our own moving to Atlanta experiences and Greta was telling about how the realtor didn’t want to show her the houses in the neighborhood she ended up in (up the street from the governor’s mansion), and I asked if she thought the realtor didn’t think she’d fit in. She gave me that steely Greta look and said, “I don’t give a fuck what those people think of me. They don’t know me.”

And that was the first time I’d ever heard anyone say that and genuinely mean it. Greta taught me that it doesn’t matter what a bunch of people I don’t even have anything to do with think of me. She also taught me to be more gracious than I have to be. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to Greta.

But anyway, back to Thanksgiving. Kate makes sweet potato pecan pie, and she hates it, but we all love it, so. Jerry didn’t make a single pun this year (that I caught). Calvin was there, and Tony and Kimberly brought Tony’s dad, Red, who was duly impressed with my Mouse Assassination Tactics.

It was bittersweet without Sally, sweet and tangy Sally. It always will be.

Thanksgiving is my favorite day of the year. I am thankful for that very specific set of friends who welcome each other, same time, same place, each year, and who can always make room for a few more.

And for Greta.

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About S.

Reader, writer, talker, knitter, picture taker, tennis player, music lover, Southerner.
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