gratitude unlocks the fullness of life

Scenes from another Woodleigh Thanksgiving

My parents in a rare moment of cooperation. My dad cannot cook, and is rather resentful of kitchen over-activity, but he is a- carving--an artist. My mom, on the other hand, is a Bauman College-certified Natural Chef. See the way she tosses the purple cabbage! I must describe her signature dessert, the tiramisu (located at right). 'Tis dusted with hot-chocolate powder, contains a good glug of (un-evaporated) Kahlua coffee liquor, which enriches pillows of mascarpone-zabaglione. Makes tipsy munchers. The dishes sit atop our laminated astronomy and geography place-mats - gourd (good) feast-time reading.

Two little kids, one littler than the other. My brother Samuel and small cousin Evie used to have a strained relationship, due to The Incident in the Car: several Thanksgivings ago, my mom chastised Samuel for not buckling up, calling him a very bad boy. Evie, bizarrely observant for a toddler, held onto this memory and deliberately avoided contact with the very bad boy. Samuel was not permitted pat her, eat pumpkin muffins with her, or occupy the same row in the minivan. The three-year Reformation of Samuel's Reputation commenced, requiring gift offerings and acrobatic displays from my brother. Persistence won back Evie's heart, and here they are now--within two feet of each other! 

A game of I Spy reveals my cello-wielding cousin Joyce, my yellow-apron'd mom, my dad rearranging chairs (his favorite activity). In the foreground, a glass of fizzy beer (not mine), and my dear Catherine in a turkey-induced slump.

I am thankful for these scenes, and all that goes on behind them. Thank you, God, for another day.