Friday, November 23, 2012
I’ve smelled like butter the past couple of days. I first had the somewhat pleasing realization on Wednesday, as I drove to buy the last of the ingredients for our holiday meal; my hands were on the steering wheel, within proximity of my nose. That night, I noticed the scent on my hands, again, as Alexi and I shared a plate of spicy Doritos. He described the hockey practice he'd coached earlier that evening while I baked; I dramatically reenacted how I'd managed to pack an incredible five pounds of apples into a pie.
Most of the years since Alexi and I have been parents, we've hosted Thanksgiving; various family members have flown out to join us. It seems easier than traveling, or at least it did when the boys were younger. I feel like I've finally gotten it down – what needs to be done in advance, how to ask for help, how to have fun in the midst of so much to do. That said, I’m not opposed to eating tacos in a warm location some future Thanksgiving.
This morning, we had slices of leftover pie for breakfast. We’ll have ice cream cake tonight. We're celebrating Alexi’s birthday, and he loves ice cream cake above all other desserts. As we ate lunch today, his mother, who's in town for the holiday, told us about his birth. Alexi was born on a Monday, and they went home from the hospital two days later, just in time for Thanksgiving. A happy Thanksgiving, indeed.