Courtney, Heidi, and I took a bike ride through the beach neighborhoods around our rental this afternoon. Thanksgiving is so quirky-- some families eat at noon while others, like ours, maintain a more traditional meal time. At any rate, there were people about, walking off or walking in anticipation of their meal, and there were the sounds and smells of people within the homes, too, and their celebrations. In addition to hearing soft jazz, laughter, cheering, and Christmas music as we pedaled by, we also caught the smells of wood smoke, steak (or perhaps fried turkey?), spaghetti sauce, and tons of weed.
"That's a choice," my sister shrugged.
"A common one, it seems," I agreed.
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