she only appears to be smiling,
my 90-year old mother.
So, thanks to an Alfred Hitchcock marathon, Thanksgiving with the widows was better than I would have thought. Also, having low expectations is a good way to "get through" the holiday.
Isn't that a hell of a thought? "Getting through"?
We cooked a small but tasty dinner, including a special cranberry relish and some roasted butternut squash tossed in pumpkin seed pesto.
My mom, perched on a couch in the draft from an open French window (this is Florida) complained about the cold and wouldn't move, but she didn't say no to a glass of wine.
Deborah cried but she also laughed.
Things to be thankful for:
1. the first thanksgiving since David's death is behind us.
2. No one got hurt. Not even their feelings.
3. we got to work in a drive by of the very nice retirement home we're hoping the Irish Knuckle will consider moving into.
4. Despite the fact that the IK wouldn't talk about the "home" she also didn't hurl it at me in a moment of fury.
5. I didn't gain any weight.
6. I am thankful for my mother's health, my sister-in-law's generousity of spirit and my own sense of responsibility that is NOT aligned to martyrdom but to love. who knew?