"I woke up Sunday mornin' with no way to hold my head that didn't hurt"

(Kris Kristofferson reference)

This much is true: Friday morning, while continuing to wear a sling I was told I could remove, a move I still find odd, I was kicking the old soccer ball around in the front yard with a 3-year old child, something I considered extremely safe until the competitive juices kicked into gear as he tried to pass me to get a freely moving ball, I got into high gear myself, and tripped over something or other and landed on my tailbone (luckily, rather than my arm). So, yes, that is pretty much how I woke up, not Sunday morning but Saturday morning, and with my unslung arm (bad idea, sleeping without it: you never know WHO is going to decide to use it for an extra pillow regardless of whatever contortionary position it might put you in while dreaming of playing golf on a course of your own design) hurting a LOT along with my head and my tailbone and several other body parts, all of which are fortunately at least present and accounted for.

Thursday we had Thanksgiving dinner at home, of course, along with mom in law, bro in law, daughter, son in law, the g'kids, and a couple of odd widowed ladies, and I mean that in the way you generally use the word odd, not as in there were three, since there were only two, but ODD. I know this, of course, from past meals with them, and I adore them for their eccentricities despite what others think. One gets a pass from my daughter because she has never said that her older child has elfin ears, sort of like Spock. She gets a pass from my son because she likes sports. Me, she will forever be in my memory as the lady who admired my willpower for eating very little after surgery for head/neck cancer.

The other, who noted the pointy ears on my then very young grandson, (I wasn't going to do it!) is rather a bit more interesting in that she is absolutely crazy, I think, but in a kind, a benevolent, a humorous way. Usually. I do suspect that in the course of eating my Thanksgiving meal,there was one stuffing that tasted like dirt and I suspect it was hers and that's all I will say about that because it is based on supposition alone although I was not alone in, let us say, not going for seconds. This, however, is part of what delights me about her. You never know what you are going to get. Others tried to ban her over the past few years, and I let it slide, but this year I insisted that she be invited again: let the fun begin! She continued to be odd, of course (it is her nature), but, again, never says an unkind word unless your ears are weird in her estimation, something I am willing to risk, even if my daughter is not, generally.

This is what they call in polite society an aside but which most of us call dragging the story on for far too long.

The bottom line is that all of that is a prelude to what happened the day before, sort of a prelude to the forelude or the qualude, or something of that sort.

On Thanksgiving day, I ate, much to your assured interest, a normally cooked turkey (not the whole thing, of course, but the parts presented to me, both white meat and dark), green beans, corn, mashed potatoes, oyster stuffing, some other stuffing, some potato stuffing, and the 'dirt' stuffing heretofore described, along with things I am forgetting to tell you about AND cranberry slices and cranberry, um, (what would you cuisinary types call it?) salad? Salad. Okay, let's go with that, a bunch of cranberries, the real thing, mixed with other cranberries...perhaps we could agree to call it cranberries?

There was also pecan pie and pumpkin pie and probably some other stuff I missed because I can only eat so much and before this year not even half of this stuff, and some rolls, without which there can be no Thanksgiving.

Six years since I have sat down and eaten turkey with family, friends and foes. The texture has been a big issue. But I did it. Six years. I ate everything. I can't honestly say that I ate everything on my plate, as the portions were large and I tended to avoid the dirt stuffing, but I ate at least a bunch of everything on my plate and ate it comfortably (I eat in the nude, too), and sat through the entire thing with all of my family, friends, and foes.

Six years.

Happy Thanksgiving, everybody!