Belated Thanksgiving

Work, family, my bikes, and a disturbing video game addiction have enforced an unplanned blogcation over the last several days. You might imagine that I would have a long list of things to discuss if I haven’t blogged for so long. I imagine you might be right, I did have a long list of things to bitch about – but unfortunately (or fortunately), I have a short memory for some things.

I do remember that Thanksgiving finally ended on Wednesday when I consumed the last of the leftovers. Yeah, that sucked. Honestly I don’t like most Thanksgiving food on the first day and my appreciation goes steadily downhill after that. I mean really – if gravy is an integral part of a meal it is probably an indication that the rest of the food isn’t that good. Because, you know, that’s what you do with gravy – cover up other things that don’t taste as good.

Anyway, it was a very thankful time. I was thankful for my family. Then I was thankful that I don’t live with them. I was thankful for 3 hour solo Thanksgiving bike rides. By solo I mean solo…



I was thankful that the next generation of my family is clearly going to be better than the current one, as indicated when my niece suggested we go around the room and say what we are thankful for. I was still giving my brother-in-law the “who’s kid is that stare” when my turn came. I gave the usual family, friends, health, blah, blah, blah thankful schpiel . It didn’t really matter what I said though, because no one was paying attention – anticipation was building over what my 6 year old son might let loose with.

I was thankful (and a little disappointed) when my son said pretty much the same thing I did. I think he sensed the general disappointment and threw in as an afterthought that he was thankful for football. And how! That brought approval from the family and covered the fact that my dad was able to skate by saying ditto.

I remember another thing I was going to right about, but I don’t know why. Why I was going to write about it. Not why I remembered it – but I don’t know that either.

Anyway, this one time when I was a kid my uncle stinky Bill the truck driver came to visit. By came to visit, I mean he got arrested when he was passing through Idaho and my parents had to bail his ass out of jail. Yeah, that rocked. While the wheels of justice slowly turned stinky Bill ate our food, and drank our beverages, but mostly just sat in the our rocking chair, watched our tv, acted like an a-hole, and stunk up the joint.

It was an ordeal. I remember my mom calling my aunt, Mrs. Stinky Bill – and indicating that she needed to get stinky Bill out of our house. I think my aunt was relieved that stinky Bill was not a her house because stinky Bill stayed at our house for two weeks.

One day my mom asked stinky Bill if she could wash his clothes for him. She did. Then she put them in a suitcase. She took stinky Bill for a ride and left him at the bus station with a ticket to stinky Billsville. That was epic. One of those secret family stories. Oops, I think I just wrote that on the internet.

eah, I don’t know why I wanted to write about that. I am sure it had some point. I will leave it to you to decide. It is kind of a thing of beauty to find your own meaning after all.