gorging

I hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving. We’re doing double-duty, as we always do—first to D.’s sister’s house and then to my mom’s house. It’s a lot of food for one day, and each year I plan to eat only a little bit at D.’s sister’s. Why must I gorge myself when I know I will have to do it all over again in mere hours? But each year, I eat too much, loll around while Stella plays with her cousins, and then eat more when stomach space permits. It’s a disgusting ritual, but I can’t seem to help myself. Today probably will be no different, but it might be. I’ve started getting heartburn from, you know, having my stomach crushed into my lungs. And when I stuff myself, the acids migrate upward with great enthusiasm. So today maybe I’ll eat in shifts: first turnkey, then potatoes (which ordinarily are not my favorite thing, but which I’m loving these days), then pie. I’ll let you know how it goes.

When Stella wakes up (hopefully not for a couple of hours because I’d like to read more of Suite Française, which I’m half-way through and LOVING), maybe we’ll all go for a (slow) walk to the coffee shop. That sounds so heavenly, so family, to me. There doesn’t ever seem to be time for us all to be together. On weekends, I always have work to do—freelance or teaching stuff—and I often end up at the coffee shop while D. and Stella go to the park. I’m so tired of this schedule. I’d love to have writing and teaching be my work and be able to fit that work into weekday hours. Is it so crazy to imagine not working in the evening or on the weekends? I suppose I would actually need to make a serious income from my writing and teaching in order to make this a reality. Sigh. Someday, maybe.

For the next couple of days, though, I’m going to pretend I have a regular, 40-hour-a-week job, and that I’m on vacation. I’m going to try not to do any work, at all. I’ll let you know how that goes, as well.

I hope you can also enjoy some time this weekend without work. And travel safely if you are traveling. Bon appetit!