I know that title seems strange, given how rough this year has been on most of the world, economically and otherwise, but I think it just might be true. For example, I’m extremely thankful for my father, who works his ass off every day and night to keep our massive (and massively needy, on the whole) family in J-Crew sweaters and Sinsky wines (and me in school, forever at this rate). And for my mother, who plods on after the tornado that he is, both socially and financially, picking up the pieces and keeping the peace as best she can. And for my sister, who, no matter how tough things are for her at the moment, will always be good for a laugh (mostly at her shameless and sometimes gross antics). And for my brother, Andrew, for the massive dose of laid-back sanity he lends to the whole messy business of family gatherings.
And of course, I would be remiss in not expressing my gratitude for my Guy, who got me through Thanksgiving (and is on my side every day) with surprising and endless patience and support. I don’t know why he sticks around, but I’m glad he does.
Ok, enough of the sappy stuff. This post is about Thanksgiving, in case you couldn’t tell by all the thanks-giving (speaking of which, I’m thankful for the rest of my family too, and how close we all are, and for my best girls, who are sometimes more like family than anyone). I was lucky enough (and for that I give thanks– ok OK I’m stopping. Promise) to get to go home for the holiday, and boy was I psyched. Not only did it rain/hail in London the whole time I was gone– and shine 65+ degree sun the whole time I was home, save one day– but I also got a much needed dose of girlfriends and family. I’m pretty sure my nephew hasn’t forgotten me yet, but if I hadn’t gone home who knows if he’d remember me come Christmas??
Overall, there’s not much to tell; I spent most of my time socializing, eating, drinking (oh, the rapture of GOOD WINE), and eating some more. And I’m not even referring to the holiday. With a little help from my friends (and Guy), I ate my way through San Francisco and Napa until I was so full I was refusing chocolate! Luckily there aren’t any pics of that, but I did manage to sneak in a (very) few of the T-day shenanigans (Uncle Robert’s really the star photog of the group). For your viewing pleasure:
So that’s pretty much it for the Thanksgiving piccies. I had a few more, but they all had one or more unflattering shots of someone or another, and I’ve had enough beatings to know better.
As for life in London, it’s plugging along. This week of classes was the last of the term, and the winter break has officially begun. I have until January 26th, which means I’ll get to spend a nice chunk of time at home over Christmas and New Years, which is of course wonderful. And now it just remains to write my analytical essay (in the British style, yelch. Steel rod, get ready to be rammed up my butt so I can write like an Englishman) and revise/expand a piece from my creative writing class in the next few weeks. Oh, and start writing the essays that I hope will make up the book that I hope won’t suck too too much. But that can all wait until tomorrow. Or the next day…
I’ve decided that my New Years resolution will be to write something every day, without fail. Until then, I’m still missing that big piece of the successful writer pie: determination. Desire I’ve got; hard work (when I get to it), defs; talent, maybe; luck, I suspect I’ve had at least a bit. But determination evades me these days, and I don’t seem to be making great strides to catch up with it. Hopefully I can change that this winter break. I think I just miss my Caffe Roma.
Anyway, that’s it for now. With any luck (or drive), you won’t hear from me for a while because I’ll be writing furiously a la Stephen King (highly recommend his book On Writing. SO good). But I’m sure I’ll be thinking of y’all, and being soppily thankful for every last one of you.
































