Oh yeah. Pull out that picked over turkey carcass, grab some congealed gravy and warm up them 3 day old rolls baby and let's munch!
But first, the Ritual Giving Thanks Moment:
This year's Thanksgiving niblet was radically different from the gorge fest of every other year of my life. Using scrawny little contrasts like night and day or even black and white would be like describing a Botticelli with stick figures. It was as if I had moved from the palatial decadence of a mansion to the cardboard box slums of a beggar. And oh how I appreciate that box - So. Much. More.
I've found since my surgery that, whether traditionally food related or not, no event is what it used to be. Because before weight loss surgery, every moment of my life was food related. There was breakfast, lunch and dinner to celebrate and all the minutes in between. Life was one big meal.
And it's not that I would eat so much, it's just that everything I did or wanted to do seemed to be centered around food. Whether growing it, cooking or eating it, food is and, I'm afraid, ever will be an enchantment for me. It is art. It is pleasure. It is a basic human need. It effects every one of the senses and moves the soul to a form of worship. Which got me to where I was 9 months, 20 sizes and 152 pounds ago...a faithful disciple of the Church of Gluttony...eat, eat and be merry. Thank you Fodder.
So here we are at the Thanksgiving holiday, one day a year held in reverence by millions of Americans. A day that we pay homage to with family gatherings, vacation, more football than should be legal and tables, stove-tops and counters loaded down with every comfort food imaginable. Even the most recognizable symbols of Thanksgiving - a very fat turkey and a cornucopia spilling over with the bountiful harvest of the season - denote indulgence.
And here I am with a stomach smaller than an egg. And the day - or rather what the day used to be - has turned the tables on me...so to speak. I still cooked. I made ham, cornbread dressing made from scratch, roasted red & sweet potatoes, roasted butternut squash with fresh yeast rolls. I even made a sugar free apple pie with an oatmeal & pecan crumb topping - I figured I would get one treat. I ate a bite of ham (no I didn't have the glaze but with or without glaze pork now tastes horrid to me), a few bites of dressing and a bite of sweet potato. Done. (had some pie later...it was eh.)
And there I sat while my family feasted till they absolutely hurt (which made me feel happy). We talked, told stories and laughed as we always do - we don't need a special day of the year to enjoy one another. But it took a moment for the reality of it to sink in. And it sank fast and deep.
Truthfully? At first it made me sad. But then, I began to give thanks and it wasn't for a slab of pie. And I remembered that I was full, but not from indecent mounds of food. And I rejoiced, but it was in the stripped down to the bare bones reality of it all version of what I'd known in my previous life. I imagine this is what it might be like for an alcoholic celebrating New Year's Eve or other events commonly celebrated with alcohol. Sober(ing).
And the stripped down to the bare bones version? It's far more enchanting. It is the rarest work of art. It is the sweetest pleasure. It is the most basic human need. And it effects every one of the senses and moves the soul to true worship.
And now for the feast. I was reading through last November's posts. Most of which made me laugh. Really, really hard. I am so silly. So, in the tradition of all things Thanksgiving we shall feast on leftovers.
Seems I used to do this little thing called the Art of Conversation. In November we had the Art of Conversation at the Office.
The Hopefully Some Day it Might Actually Be the Annual Take Your White Friends to the Beach Day! Sigh. That was so much fun...We didn't get to go this year. Stupid hurricane.
There were Meme's & Mande Mondays.
There were Changes, Children and Chances to Win.
There were Disasters & Delusions.
Then there were my favorites Resounding and Rejoicing.
Happy Thanksgiving to EVERY one. It's not just for the fourth Thursday of November. It's not just for Americans. It is every moment of every day and the feast is in the bounty of love and grace poured in to our hearts by the Father, the Giver of all good things.