Holidays are Bittersweet

I'm always leery of what my brain is going to do with holidays. Sometimes they are just like any other day and other times I get hit with a brick to the brain. Thanksgiving, humble though this year was, reminded me of chosen-family celebrations from long ago. When we each took a dish and ran with it. Jason? Tasty tasty dinner rolls. Me? Usually pecan pie with nuts held together with a tiny bit of maple-flavored goo. Not low calorie, to say the least. And then there were all the other dishes which we started in on in the afternoon and continued to feast upon throughout the night. 

Not My Pie. Mine Was Better.

Silliness ensued, of course. I don't remember if there was booze, but I am guessing that there was--and before you get any ideas, I don't remember because of the time since then, not because I was pickled. Maybe. So-called shirtless o'clock probably hit around dark with a pile of us on the floor/couch watching a bad movie or playing Guitar Hero. And all the bad and raunchy jokes we could come up with. There were many.

But those times are gone. Left behind are the good memories to carry onward. And that is okay. I hold onto those memories and stash them for darker times. Times when my brain can't hold onto the light. So I shove the good memories into my consciousness to try to force out the bad. It usually helps, so I call that a win.

So carry on, declare shirtless o'clock, and tease those around you mercilessly while eating all the good food loving family can create.