The Thanksgiving Duck

And so, last weekend I started a healthy eating kick.  For me, this meant leaving the lettuce and onions and one or two peppers on Saturday’s burger, and not having sour sweets while watching Tin Tin at the cinema.  I took fruit-bars to work and came home to rice-cakes and grapes.  I may have asked Sarge to boil spinach pasta and then left the tomato chucks in the sauce.  I was doing pretty well.

And then Thursday happened.  I’ve told my mother several times that Thanksgiving is not a holiday in Scotland.  There are no turkeys ‘til Christmas, and you must hunt The Great Canned Pumpkin in specialty shops and then come home to your Actually American Girlfriend with Empty Scottish Hands.  Just ask Sarge.  I wanted him to make pumpkin pie, and then pumpkin pancakes, but there was no canned pumpkin.  I couldn’t even console myself with a Pumpkin Spice Latte.  But the Chinese duck on Thursday night was pretty good.  So much for the healthy eating, then.  But I can always pretend the holiday season has already started.

See, this time of year, nostalgia is a physical ache that I live with and indulge.  The tears start in early November and don’t dry up until January.  I don’t miss America, I miss what my America was.  Around the holidays it was the smell of Nana’s cooking and baking and the scent of the tree and the wreaths and incense at my Grandma’s house.  A few years ago, Dad got me a candle that was basically my Grandma’s holiday house in a jar.  After I broke down and sucked it up again, I decided that was damn-near the best present there was.

November is a lucky month, I feel my good ghosts every day, but they are louder in November.  I got some good news on Thursday, and I might have had a celebratory white chocolate chip cookie.  I then sat on Facebook and shared in virtual Thanksgiving.  I’ve always known that real thanksgiving isn’t only one day in one country.  And that spirit I’m going to share what I’m thankful for, every day:

My family and friends, wherever you are and whether I am 40 miles away or 4000, thanks for remembering who I am and reminding me every so often.

Sarge, again, for everything.  And your face.  And for only giving me half a strange look when I slip and call you Sarge in our living room.

My independence.  I’m grateful for every day I get to get up and rock the chrome and wheels.

My writing, both truth and fiction.  The sentences that narrate my life.  And the proof that you don’t need to be depressed to write good stuff.  Because I did wonder for a while.

The New York trip that Sarge and I took, and the love we felt while there.  I still need to write about that.

Good coffee, but not as good as New York coffee.

Good books, and bad ones, because I need them sometimes.

Good films and bad movies.  Because I need them, too.  But not as much as bad books.

The clarity that comes with writing in a journal.  Especially when you look up and see mountains out your window.

Stone cottages with no phone reception.

Streets that are not cobbled.

Tools and tire pumps.

Open fires and stars to wish on.

Judy Garland songs that aren’t sad, but I love the sad ones, too.

Everyone who reads my rambles and these lists that make sense only to me.

What are you thankful for today?

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9 thoughts on “The Thanksgiving Duck

  1. This reminded me of a comment Colin Firth made on the today show last year about having Thanksgiving envy and that he wishes they’d do it in England, “Not that the British are ungrateful,” he argued, “but yes, I have terrible thanksgiving envy. I’m jealous of my American family.”

    I’ve always wondered what the “official” Christmas season kick-off is in the rest of the world; of course, here its technically noon on Thanksgiving day, but that’s more about the opening of the shopping season and less about the deeper meaning of Christmas. Then too, black Friday doesn’t ever start on Friday any more…unless it’s the Friday after halloween now.

    I always enjoy your posts, by the way. 🙂

    1. Thank you, I enjoy writing them! Where do you blog? I clink your link and it says it’s deleted. I’m sure I’d appreciate your writing as well!

      L

    2. The English, of all people, shouldn’t be having Thanksgiving envy, since part of what we’re grateful for is leaving them behind. (Not you, Colin Firth. The other English.)

      Great post, LKD. I’d never thought of being grateful for bad books before, but yeah, you have a point.

  2. This year past so fast, celebrating Thanksgiving this year hit me really hard, my dad past away 4 years ago, I know what you are filling. Oh, I’m thankful for . . . you, love your writing and enjoy your blog so much. And today I realize you are following back. Yes, I realize this after a month, so bad a this thing. I was thrilled! You see I only have like 5 followers, my friends, and some don’t have blog’s. So thank you! Another thing, you made me read Sense and Sensibility, saw your book list, and read it. I’m obsessed with lists of books.

    All my best wishes Doris.

  3. I feel this way around the holiday’s too. I miss going to my granny’s house, it was sold a couple of years ago after my pap passed away, and I think of that place often, and it makes me crazy knowing I can’t ever go in there again. On the plus side my other grandma always has a delicious smelling house, especially this time of the year! mmmmmm mmmm.

  4. Canned pumpkin – I passed some yesterday in my shopping!! There’s a teenie wee American foods section in the tiny Harvey Nicks food shop outside the St James centre – that strange shopping street between StJ and St Andrew’s square, where they have Bravissimo. Sorry it’s a bit late, but – belated Thanksgiving??

  5. I am thankful to have read your post. I enjoyed it very much. My family and I look forward to Thanksgiving every year. After saying our Grace, we each take time to verbalize all the things we are thankful for in our lives. This year we are most grateful to have been together and that we are all employed in a tough economic time.

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