Gobble, Gobble

Despite the relatively recent evolution in Norris family Thanksgiving celebrations, I still count it among one of my favorite days of the year. I suspect that it’s my grandmother’s doing -- teaching us from a very young age to embrace the sappy, sentimental side and appreciate that Thanksgiving is a time to give—wait for it—thanks. And so Thanksgiving has maintained its position in the pantheon of holidays above St. Patrick's and Halloween, a little below my birthday and Christmas, and right in line with Talk Like A Pirate Day. Now, if there were a way to combine all of these into one mega-holiday with snickerdoodles, I’d be a happy girl.

Even without presents and telling jokes that end with "Arr,” it was a lovely, lovely weekend. There was a half-day on Wednesday. Work continued remotely through the afternoon, but it always seems much more tolerable when I’m wearing sweatpants. After sending the final email, Roxanne, Shannon, Sarah and I went uptown to see the ceremonial inflation of the parade balloons.

The next day I avoided the crowds and watched the parade from the treadmill attempting not to laugh out loud at the awkwardly scripted float commentary. I stopped by the store on the way home to get the ingredients for sweet potato casserole -- my contribution to dinner. Then showering, cooking, and a night of all the food and all the wine and all the lying around groaning about being full necessary for a proper Thanksgiving. Once recovered from our food coma, a subway ride to Herald Square, some Longhorn football, a whole lot of cell phone minutes, and crawling into bed full and happy. And that was Thanksgiving.

The rest of the weekend was shopping and running and finishing my book and trying to stay warm and trimming the tree and planning our upcoming holiday party. I miss our Arkansas Thanksgivings. But, I’m thankful I had four days of friends and rest and sloth and food and happiness.

Happy Thanksgiving!

On Friendship

I try to limit talking about other people on the blog. The parental units are an exception to this rule, but they aren’t shy about using their editorial powers. Friends are a different story. It’s not like Twitter doesn’t reveal our every nano-activity, but that doesn’t involve my droning commentary and an uncertain audience.

Today I’m going to make an exception.

When I moved to Hoboken, I landed in the middle of a group of six friends that do all of the annoying, movie-like girly stuff including but not limited to shopping, yoga, and even frequent dinner parties. We share clothes and wine and ambitions, but never boyfriends. Barf, I know.

Something terrible happened to one of us last week. Something that shook us all to the core and made us reevaluate what’s important and pray and cry and talk, A LOT. I’m so thankful to have friends like these -- the kind that show up when you need to move furniture; that let you sleep on their couch for a month; that score you free event tickets and make fun of you and let you use their building’s free washing machines and watch bad wedding shows with you and offer up their brother’s mob connections whenever you need them.

These girls are the best. And, I know we’ll come out of this stronger, smarter and forever closer.

One Year

I had this unvoiced, ever-so-cliche plan to become a better Leslie in New York. And, I got here and I was pretty much the same Leslie. It’s hard to change. And, maybe deep down, I didn’t really want to. I think what I wanted was for certain other people in my life to change and I’ve come to learn that doesn’t happen easily either.

I thought I would shed my tendency toward homebodiness, pseudo-shyness, and occasional awkwardness. But, my plans to become un-lame-o weren’t so much fulfilled. My clothes still mostly come from chain stores. I still really like reality television. I still look like I’m playing dress up when I wear lipstick. I still worry every time I’m in a public bathroom stall that I accidentally walked into the men’s room.

I suppose I’m not exaaaccctly the same as I was a year ago. I’ve come to appreciate public transportation, started writing and drawing again, and learned a lot about cereal. I’ve also accomplished a few things like getting promoted, running a half-marathon, and surviving a traumatic vegetarian duck experience in Chinatown.

I’m glad I gave up elbow room for a little adventure. I can’t believe it’s been a year. Happy anniversary, New York. Here’s to another year of a lot more of the same.

Ch*nge

It’s the day after the election and half of the country is calling in sick or threatening international relocation. The other half is dancing on their desks or buying drinks for strangers in bars.

I think collectively we are all spent. Actually, most of us were maxed out by the end of the summer.

Then, the economy crashed.

And, I held my breath through the debates and the ups and downs of my (teeny) stock portfolio. I dutifully recycled the endless campaign mailings and read A LOT of Huffington Post.

Then, I voted.

And, by yesterday at 11PM, it was all over. It was (depending on what commentator you were watching) either "an" historic event, or "a" historic event. And, I feel like we can breathe again.

Well, most are breathing. Today my roommate said that she is awaiting the arrival of locusts, pestilence, and blood red rivers. That’s a quote. I think she forgot to take her anti-drama pill this morning. And, if you’re not breathing, at least you’re feeling something.

So, in celebration of the end of election season, I’m…

- Banning “change” from the blog
- Taking a two week break from CNN.com
- Avoiding my cranky roommate

God bless America and all that stuff.