I am thankful for:
Pamela, Sarah, Jenna, Hannah, Jonathan and Aaron,
Hedy and George,
my sister Maureen, Billy, Caitlin and Ryan.
Friends (too numerous to mention here. I am blessed)
Great food (turkey, cheeseburgers, crockpot, BBQ, steak, anything that swims, chicken, pork roast, and on and on)
Miles, Coltrane, Parker, Sample, Ray Charles, Leon Russell, Steely Dan, Michael McDonald, Marc Jordan, Steve Khan, Tom Scott, Take 6
Chick Corea, Bill Evans, Chopin, Brubeck, Oscar Peterson, Joplin and on and on
NH, and mountains, maple syrup and Zeb’s
Australia, snags, pull-a-parts, meatpies, Bundy, the Southern Cross, grilled venison in Stick’s Mancave, chinese croc, Pavlova
Didgeridoos and bullwhistles
Moe, Mark, Tash, Stick, Stella, Max, Issac, Will, Kel, Ant, Zoe, Mel, Steve, Caleb, Lucas, Taylor, Jack and all our Aussie family
the Pats, Red Sox, Bruins, Celtics and the NE Revolution
Harrison’s Roast Beef
Wright’s Chicken Farm
Ronnie’s on a sunny summer day
The College of the Holy Cross
Everyday that I am alive
my own music and the knowledge that it came from somewhere high above
Church on Sunday and another chance to do good
every day that I wake up
my Guardian Angel (she’s always busy)
My list could/should go on but I will stop here.
Please leave me one thing that you are thankful for.
That would be nice.
Happy Thanksgiving to all.
I will be away from FB for the next few days because I will be cooking.
Much peace to all.
It was many years ago that me, Pamela and Sarah (3 years old?) went to my sister’s house for a Christmas Eve visit.
At that time, my sister and her husband lived 10 minutes away with my niece Caitlin, 2 months shy of her 3rd birthday.
Two 3 year olds on Christmas Eve, how great/exciting will that be?
From what I remember, it started off quite well; happiness, laughter, cocktails, Karen Carpenter singing ‘Merry Christmas, Darling’,
and a smorgasbord of waist thinning appetizers fit for a King.
Everything was going so well until Sarah found out that Santa (that sweet SOB) brought Cait an early present.
It was a Little Tikes Kitchen, fully equipped with plastic pots, pans, a stove top and the most evil addition of all, a fake telephone.
BTW- Little Tikes toys will be roaming the earth long after all of us are dead and gone.
Talk about indestructible.
Sarah and Caitlin began playing nicely until Sarah wanted to use the phone.
(Probably to call Santa and tell him to bring her a kitchen just like Cait’s)
Houston? We have a problem.
The phone was Caitlin’s.
And Santa (me) in all his infinite wisdom did not bring Sarah a plastic kitchen to leave under the tree.
Things spiraled down from there with pots and pans flying and two little girls crying, and me realizing I am so screwed.
I remember hating (not really) my sister that night knowing full well that I would have to search the ends
of the earth for a Little Tikes Kitchen in time for Sarah’s birthday (12/26).
I did find that kitchen on the day of her birthday.
It was delivered and all was well.
I don’t think she let Cait use the phone at her birthday party.
Santa has since recovered.
This past Tuesday, Sarah and Jonathan (the son I never had) closed on their first home.
I call it a home because that’s what they intend on making it.
It’s a beautiful place set high on a hill overlooking many surrounding towns.
The view from the upstairs windows are astounding.
I was there this morning shutting off the outside lights before walking through the house in silence.
In my mind I could see and hear all the wonderful things just waiting to happen.
I could smell bacon cooking in a kitchen that Sas and Cait will never fight about.
I could see a fire slowly burning and crackling in the fireplace in a living room worth living in.
I could even hear a piano that is not there yet, but will someday be because music somehow ‘completes’ a home.
I could feel the spirit of a long awaited Christmas that was waiting to happen, years in the making, just outside the windows.
I could feel love waiting in the wings.
A gentle hand from far and high above the clouds waved it to be.
I just know that.
I’m sold on this home that’s just dying to be filled with oh, so many wonderful things.
This will ultimately be a most amazing Christmas.
And my inner Grinch will take a much needed hiatus (as he should every year)
A new house, a newly married couple, a first Holiday meal, the beginning of a new family.
Santa will sleep well on Christmas Eve . . .
but only after he prepares his French Toast Casserole.
‘Christmasness’ is just a silly word I made up for this post title.
I have successfully made it through another Thanksgiving and will now wade through
the infinite complexity of Christmas with all its meaningless verve and endless commercial fluff.
For me, this is a season that has lost all meaning.
I have automatically tuned out the Carpenter’s ‘Merry Christmas, Darling’ and Nat King Cole’s ‘Christmas Song’,
not because I don’t like chestnuts on an open fire but because these days the sentiment means very little to me these days in terms of spirit.
I’m not the first person to say that this holiday has gone commercial but it has
and I have a tough time participating.
That’s just me.
My fountain pens are loaded with some amazing inks and I will just write my way though the holidays.
It will not only calm me down but may take some of the Grinch out of me by the 24th.
Look for a post on Christmas Day.
I wish all of you peace and multiple moments of crystal blue silence amidst
the [unnecessary and] perpetual seasonal noise.
ps. wanted to tag this post, “Dear Santa, I’ve been a very bad boy this year. 5 tons of coal should do,”
but it seemed a bit long . . .
Be safe, be well, be happy [@Thanksgiving]
98% of people say ‘Oh Shit!’ before going in the ditch on a slippery road.
The other 2% are from Massachusetts and they say,
‘Hold my beer and watch this!’
*I usually say,
“Put on your seatbelt. I’m going to try something.
I’ve only seen it done in a cartoon but I think I can do it.”
Happy Thanksgiving, folks!
I will be off and on with the blog for the next few days as I prepare Thursday’s feast.
Roast turkey, mashed potatoes with gravy, cranberry sauce, sweet potato casserole and on and on.
Be safe, be well, be happy and be full . . .
hAPPY tURKEY dAy, aLL
ALL nONSENSE, sUCH aS mE
mUST bE THE iMPeNDING dOsE oF tRYPTOpHAN . . .
Got a kick out of my malfunctioning CAPS key tonight.
Have a great Thanksgiving everybody.
It was a cold, brisk November night several weeks ago that Pamela and I went out to dinner (a rare occasion), not an expensive “date” by any means; a burger and a shared salad along with a few Shipyard Pumpkin Ales which were quite good, one or two and you’ve had your fill of this delicately spiced brew.
Maybe it was the up and coming holidays that turned on the “memory” faucet for me but for some reason I began thinking about my mother. (big surprise, huh?)
When I think about her, I really miss talking to her.
I wonder if that feeling will ever stop?
The two just go together, I guess.
It was no surprise that I found myself on Sunday afternoon making a big pot of Beef Stew, a recipe that I adopted from her.
The simple act of cooking something she used to make brings her back to me, in a quiet and introspective kind of way.
She’s almost standing next to me in the kitchen and to be honest, I love it.
Strange, huh? Not really.
After Thanksgiving dinner, I found a great seat on our “way too comfortable” living room couch and joined my daughters while they watched “Ratatouille”, the Disney flick (and a real good one at that).
I’m not giving anything away regarding the movie but now and then souls and memories intersect for reasons unknown.
This simple children’s movie spoke to me deeply.
Sheesh. It’s Dizzney.
Go figure. (one scene in particular)
Should you ever care to watch it, maybe you’ll understand where I’m coming from, maybe not.
I’ll just say that special dishes are such a beautiful and lasting thing in terms of our deepest fields of memory.
Our minds literally refuse to forget the special foods we ate and loved as children.
They bring us back.
It was no surprise to me that the beef stew came out as good as it did.
The simple act of re-creating a recipe my mom once made me feel so good.
Maybe she had more to do with the end result of the beef stew than I did.
I like to think of it that way, anyway . . .
My mom’s beef stew recipe is up for grabs for anyone that wants it.
If there’s enough interest, I’ll post it here at S&M.
The next few days will find me laboring in the kitchen.
Not a great time for blogging.
I’ve had a few great ideas over the past few days but they won’t see the blog until sometime next week.
Please be patient.
I may be around, I may not.
But don’t get too excited.
A Happy Thanksgiving!
to all of my readers!
Be safe, be well and damn you if you’re frying your turkey.
Sommmm’ bitch, I’m jealous!
Talk to y’all in a few days . . .
ps. as far as which one I’d stuff?
Guess it all depends on how many people I’m trying to feed.