Thanksgiving Day here in Canada is pretty much finished in my house. We had our turkey dinner yesterday, and I must say, I outdid myself! The turkey was moist and golden, the gravy was flavourful and lump-free, there was more than enough stuffing, and I made the pumpkin pie myself (well, I did actually buy the piecrust. I’d never made pie before, so I thought let’s not get crazy here by attempting piecrust too!). I’m so thankful that I have always had enough food to eat, and that sometimes I can share that food with the people I love.
It was the first time that my mother has been at my house since she had her little stroke or whatever it was last March. I have stairs, you see, and she has been so worried that she wouldn’t be able to manage them. But she did, and although she was a bit slow, she climbed up and down quite competently. She was so happy that she could do those stairs, she was just beaming all evening long! Or maybe that was because of the two beers and the two shots of rye that she had? Hard to tell with my mother … but I’m still thankful that she can come to my house again.
So now DD and I have the pleasure of eating leftover turkey dinner for the next week or two or three. I may not have to cook till November. I’m thankful for that, because I’m not the world’s most enthusiastic cook. Leftovers are awesome, in my book.
I’m very thankful that I was able to fish one of the metal skewers from the turkey out of the garbage disposal before it wrecked said garbage disposal. I still have no idea how it got down there – it’s not like we dumped the turkey in the sink for carving!
I’m also thankful that DD figured out so quickly how my new butane candle lighter works so that the candles on the table could be lit. I had tried and tried and tried, and just couldn’t get a flame. And naturally, I hadn’t a single match in the house. But DD simply picked the butane lighter up, pushed one button and pulled another at the same time, and lo! there was fire. “Oh,” I said stupidly. “You have to push that red button forward, not down. Who knew?” (I suppose I would have known, if I had read the directions on the package. Which I did not. Obviously.)
And after a most successful dinner party, a good sleep, and a leisurely breakfast this morning, I was astounded to hear the low rumble of the recycling truck in my neighbourhood. On a statutory holiday?!? I looked outside. All my neighbours had their bins out. I rapidly checked on-line, and yes, recycling was indeed being picked up today, despite it being a statutory holiday. So, barefoot, hair sticking up weirdly, and housecoat flapping behind me, I dragged my recycling bin out into the driveway before the truck got there. I was so thankful that I’d made it in time – and also that none of my neighbours saw me looking like I’d just rolled out of bed at 11:30 on a Monday morning.
Except that it wasn’t the recycling truck I’d heard at all, it was some other big truck. It’s now almost 6:30 pm, and my recycling bin is still sitting forlornly in the driveway, waiting for the truck to come and empty it. It’s the only bin still out there. Somehow I missed the pickup completely. The truck must have come much earlier, maybe while I was still in bed, and I either hadn’t heard it at all (doubtful) or I had heard it but hadn’t recognized it as the recycling truck because I didn’t think there was a pickup today (more likely).