icebluenothing

I honestly don't have too much use for Thanksgiving, personally. I don't want to hate on anyone's parade, but for my money, it's not enough about thanks and too much about overindulgence, and overindulgence in what? Turkey, which is kind of like chicken except it's dry and sort of tasteless and a little gamey and there's too damn much of it; cranberries, tart and sharp and unhappy; sweet potatoes, which are perfectly all right unless you put frickin' marshmallows on them, 'cause, you know, vegetables really just need more candy to make them palatable .... The only part of the food I really like is the stuffing, and frankly, I can just go and buy a box of Stove Top whenever the mood strikes.

So, minus the food, it's really just a day of familial obligations and togetherness. In other words, a dress rehearsal for Christmas. It's the appendix of holidays. We don't need it. Bah, hambug, etc.

More seriously .... After last Thanksgiving, when my father went into the hospital and then never came out again, I just really couldn't face the idea this time. I mean, I really couldn't. For weeks, whenever I thought about it, my stomach would cramp up with anxiety and dread.

I finally ended up telling my family that I just wasn't going to be able to make it. They were disappointed, of course, but I think they understood.

I toyed with the idea of not doing anything that day at all, but I thought that would probably just further depress me. So instead, I took windbourne up on her invitation to come spend it with her family.

I'm glad I did. It was just what I needed. Her family were talkative, friendly, a little crazy. Oh, and Greek, which explains the presence of spanakopita and tiropita on the cheerfully overladen tables. I got to meet many cousins -- "cousin" being the apparent vague catch-all term Ahna's family uses for any relations within a generation or so -- including an older cousin who strongly influenced Ahna's musical tastes and a younger cousin who told me in great detail much more than I ever needed to know about professional wrestling. (I always have a hard time at these sorts of gatherings trying to decide to pass as one of the kids or one of the grown-ups.) Everyone seemed to like me. Quite gratifying.

From there we ended up going to Lars' mom's house, where we finished our evening with hetaera15, saheeb138, Mari and James, where we had more food (*whimper*) and passed out in front of a documentary about Oliver Cromwell and the New Model Army. It was a good day.

So anyway, I was starting to say --

I was realizing something, earlier. Namely, when left to my own devices, unemployed and home by myself, I'll eat enough food in a day, but it will never feel like I've had a meal. I'm not left feeling hungry, but I do feel dissatisfied. I only feel like I've had a meal when I have one with other people. Or when I go out.

I sat down this afternoon and analyzed why that was. I decided that what was missing was any ritual component of consuming food; when I make a sandwich, for example, and eat in front of the computer, that's not taking time for a meal, that's just a snack. So I made myself a sandwich and sat down at the dining room table with it on a plate, and treated it like a meal. And felt satisfied by it.

I think I'm going to try to do that from now on.