Thursday, November 27, 2014

Happy Thanksgiving

It's 76F right now (5:48p). We're heading down from a high of 79F today. We have a beautiful wind blowing. The chicken for my tacos is baking in the oven. (What, you've never heard of a traditional Thanksgiving dinner of tacos?)

Our taco tradition started 32 years ago when we brought my mother home so she could spend the day with us. She asked for tacos for Thanksgiving dinner. I made tacos just knowing they were in no way as good as the ones she used to make.

She loved them and ate three. This was at a time when she hardly ate more than a bite of food.

She went home shortly after that. We've had tacos for Thanksgiving since that time. Our son, who is all grown and lives in California, also makes tacos after coming home from his dinner at the table of his dear friend.

Isn't it amazing how traditions form and endure?

I'm thankful today for so many things.

Yesterday we had a simple luncheon with our students, clients, and staff. Teriyaki chicken, rice, and macaroni/potato salad. Juice and homemade pumpkin pie. (Very traditional food, here. I still find macaroni/potato salad interesting. It's actually very good.)

We always hold hands and go around the circle and each person says what they're thankful for this year. Several of our school family do not speak, but some are able to use sign language to say mama, papa, or other simple things they love.

They show all the rest of us a wonderful way to see the world.

I can't believe I found these words hanging around. The tips of my fingers are so sore they may have blisters. I'm glad that although many things have changed in the last few years, the direct connect between my brain, words, and my fingers is still strong.

You're right, Robin. I will probably do NaNo again.

I love the feeling of closing my eyes and hearing my fingers as they try to keep up with the thoughts flying through my head.

Aloha, Dear Friends.

Sending lots of Maui magic your way.


Never, ever, ever, ever, ever...

ever again.

Unless I live long enough to retire a second time.