I am a shut in. My brave neighbors are out skating and skiing, snowmachining and sledding. We went for a walk and our skin hurt. Our legs felt bare and moved stiffly.
So, instead of winter sports, we have savory dinners, with spicy sauces over rice. We have Netflix and Blockbuster and NPR podcasts. I have melancholy poems to read. The phone rings and it is one brother hauling fuel on a Nevada highway, then it rings again, another brother hauling a whole tanker of fuel across the Atlantic Ocean. Heading for Spain, driving to Elko.
We shared a turkey and all the sides with friends downtown. Katherine was with her mom on Thursday so we will conjure up another feast with her soon. Thanksgiving is a holiday with a false history that somehows keeps an intact core. Most of us are thankful for our rich lives and that is what we celebrate.