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!