Thanks

Long weekend, I love you. Let me just get that right out there.

I took a two-day work week this week in honor of the best.holiday.ever. I am thankful for two-day work weeks.

Now, I get it. I know that the origins of Thanksgiving are dubious and the pilgrim/"indian" component of it is cringe-worthy. I've never liked turkey and you know M doesn't "eat the bird because he loves birds." I know that the twitterverse is pretty much split down the middle with FML and pass me the wine I hate my family posts, and I'm so thankful and everything is beautiful in it's own way tweets.

While I am never one for shooting rainbows out of my ass, I have to confess, I'm falling into the Ray Stevens camp this year. Thanksgiving is so distinctly North American. It is the only holiday that's ever made me homesick when I've been far away. Being vegetarian has eliminated any need to feign delight while stuffing a dry, dead bird down my gullet and wow, there was no shortage of good stuff at the table yesterday.

You have to appreciate a holiday where gifts are not required, the focus is on food, it's totally ok to get tipsy in front of your parents/in-laws/family units, naps are not only allowed but encouraged, and the overarching theme is "hey you spoiled yankees, can you stop yer bitching about your first world problems for just a minute, look around you, and be grateful. If only for one day. Be grateful."

And so I shall. I will savor the shepherd's pie I made from leftover mashed potatoes and kale, sip some lovely porter, watch M play his new video game (purchased for the long weekend) and be grateful. For my home, for my husband, for my health, for my homies (that means you), for our daughters. Too often I forget - their short time with us was a gift. A Gift.