Baked for Thanksgiving

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.

Low Country Thanksgiving Eve

As the sun set this evening, I drove to the southernmost end of the peninsula where we are staying. Holiday lights sparkled from many of the homes on the narrow spit, and plenty were occupied, despite the fact that this is a beach town in the off-season. The smell of wood smoke was on the breeze, and I stopped to let a couple of women cross the street carrying huge kettles. In house after house, I spotted folks setting up folding tables or picnic tables in the breezeway created by the pylons lifting the structure above the floodplain. Still other people stood on the decks of their houses watching the sun sink, turning the pale orange and the clouds pink. I rounded the point and headed back north into the gathering darkness and the lights and warmth of our own holiday home.

Ahhh

Wake up.
Drink freshly brewed coffee.
Go to the beach.
Eat a hearty breakfast.
Take a bike ride across the causeway and back along the beach.
Go to the state park to see alligators, egrets, and storks, oh my!
Run a couple of quick errands.
Play mini golf (Do badly! Deal with it!)
Cook dinner with your brother and sister.
Know that tomorrow will be just as good or better.

Zonked Out

After a fun day of vacation, I slept soundly last night. In fact, I only woke up once in the middle of the night-- I needed to pee and put my laptop away, which was still on my lap, powered on, and open to the Sunday crossword puzzle. Were my fingers still on the keyboard, too? Hard to say; I'm just grateful the lights were out, and the machine didn't fall to the floor like my books sometimes do!

Be Healed

Usually, I am an inveterate beachcomber: sometimes, there's nothing more satisfying than walking the shore and scanning the middens pushed up by the tide, looking for a hidden treasure. But, such focus can also be a distraction from the splendor around me, or worse. Many's the time I've left the beach with a stiff neck and a headache and not much else.

This morning felt a little different to me. It's the first day of our week-long vacation at the beach, and I just wanted to walk. With the early morning sunshine reflecting off the ocean, Heidi, Lucy, and I set an easy pace, walking and talking to cover the mile-and-a-half to the pier. We were on our way back when somehow the conversation turned to our aching joints and the stiff gaits we sometimes have to push through. 

"When I've been sitting in the chair too long, it's like," I mimicked an exaggerated toddle.

"How is it again?" Heidi laughed.

I paused and stooped over, resting my hand on my hip, ready to limp forward, but there on the sand at my feet was a big, perfect shark's tooth. I scooped it up, whooped with joy, and did a little happy dance. 

All my aches and pains were gone.

The Week that Is

Should there be a Saturday road trip on the agenda, I always look forward to listening to the AT40 70s edition broadcast. The nostalgia of hearing songs from my childhood seems to fuel the journey, making even the longest trip shorter. 

I was disappointed today, though, when the show was a rebroadcast from this week in 1970. Generally, the earlier in the decade the countdown, the less satisfying I find it. In 1970, I was eight, and although I recognized Black Magic Woman by Sanatana (#40), the next few numbers were disappointing, and so I turned my radio down and drove in silence. 

But soon, my mind turned to what I might have been doing Thanksgiving week in 1970 when I was 8. Back then, our family always took a road trip from our home in South Jersey to see family in DC. I imagined the five of us packed into our blue 1964 Ford Falcon heading south. I remembered that one year, we left so early that we actually stopped for breakfast at a roadside diner, which was not our usual routine. I could picture myself sitting with my brother and sister on one side of a booth, waiting for our pancakes, looking out the window at the cars whiz by in the bright November morning sun, and feeling the excitement of the holiday bubbling through my brain.

Back in the present, I navigated the flow of traffic under the pale blue November sky and felt the excitement of the holiday bubble through my brain.

Putting it in R

I spent a chunk of today making returns: I dropped off some components of Heidi's Halloween costume that didn't quite work at UPS, returned a power staple gun that wasn't right for the job at Home Depot, a glue gun at Michaels, a sweater at Costco, and another Halloween thing at TJMaxx. 

Before, when I worked full-time, running such errands could be time-consuming and stressful, but today's activity offered all the satisfaction of accomplishing a list of chores AND more! Instead of spending money and bringing bags of stuff home, I cleared out bags of stuff from the house and got some money back.