I don't use that word much. But this year? I felt truly blessed. I mean, it could have been the gallon of sangria that I drank over the four days that I was at my parents' house, but I think the feeling of loving the whole world was present before the sangria. The sangria just helped me express it. (Over and over and over.)
I'm not exaggerating about the sangria.
In a fit of insanity on their parts, two friends agreed to accompany me to the parental homestead for the Thanksgiving feast. We all fit into one car (with the dog) despite the best efforts of one of us (who shall remain nameless) who brought a suitcase the size of Rhode Island.) We played Rock Band. And ate pie. One of us shot a crossbow. One of us made fudge. One of us made a perfect apple pie. We helped with Christmas decorations. We played Mexican train dominoes. And we laughed. And laughed. And then laughed some more.
The toast that I gave on Thanksgiving went something like, "To good friends and loving family who, in the best of both worlds, are one and the same."
I am so lucky to be surrounded by so many people that I love and who love me in return. It made for a perfect weekend.
I will do my best to post more details in the upcoming days. Don't think that the Rhode Island-sized suitcase is getting off THAT easily.