It's (American) Thanksgiving morning and I am at a Starbucks on Country Club Plaza. Given the number of people here, I have to think that not everyone spends their holiday in the oft-touted multigenerational blowout meal followed by a gender-segregated tradition where men watch football and women do all the cleanup.
If I'd gone the childbearing route, I would likely be expected to host, as expressed in the song "Over the river and through the woods/to grandmother's house we go". The song also mentions a sleigh, a rather outmoded form of transportation involving a semi-sentient horse that knows the way. Trust me, if I were Grandma, we'd be going out to eat.
Richard and I are those kind of adults who live far away from their relatives and who will neither host nor journey to those traditional Thanksgiving feasts, so we go someplace nearby that's determined to have Thanksgiving dinners for people like us. This year it's Kansas City, where we're staying in a bed and breakfast just off the Plaza and watching the Plaza lighting from the balcony. And watching people go crazy for Black Friday.
What am I thankful for? My quirky, unconventional life.
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