Beyond the adjectives.

Dear friends,

It is the evening of Thanksgiving as I write this. I’m sitting in a comfortable chair by the window, which is slightly cracked so I can hear the rain. Kate is asleep, gripped by a long nap that won’t seem to release her. Her roommate, Houda, is sitting beside her in bed, glued to her laptop where she’s spent most of the afternoon typing furiously. Parker is stretched over the loveseat in the kitchen, eating cheese and crackers. Two of our visitors, Lusy and Barb, are at the kitchen island drinking hot tea and eating creme brulee. Doug and another visitor, Kristina, are in the den, talking tennis.

Life is perfect.

A year ago as I fretted over my oldest child leaving for college, I never could have dreamed our Thanksgiving holiday would bring us a houseful of international guests and so much joy in seeing my sweet CupKate cross our threshold again. I didn’t know then that different, as in my life is going to be so different when Kate leaves, often means lovely if you can scrounge up just an ounce of patience.

I kept my camera close by most of the day to catch the memories. I snapped this shot of Kate’s roommate:

And this shot of everyone filling their plates:

And this shot of us gathered around the table:

And this shot of a new dessert recipe I tried:

And this shot of my dinner plate because oh lordy:

After our meal we all crowded into the den, where the Tryptophan worked its magic and I fell asleep on the floor and missed half the video the girls had chosen.

Later, Mr. Mom and I rallied just long enough to do the dishes before collapsing in the den again for more television, more food, more laughter, more everything wonderful.

Speaking of wonderful, that’s the word the girls keep using to describe my cooking. The turkey, the leek bread pudding, the ginger cake with cinnamon whip, the creme brulee, the spiced cranberries, the brown sugar and ginger mini cheesecakes — it was all wonderful today. I joked I would have to teach them more English adjectives and they joked I would have to teach them to cook.

Perhaps, but tomorrow I’m teaching them the art and science of Black Friday shopping. We’re headed to St. Louis for treasures unknown.

Those of the known variety, however, are right here with me during this precious moment in time.

With gratitude {for a life marked by more adjectives than wonderful can begin to describe},

Joan, who will be wearing her sweat pants and athletic shoes during Black Friday shopping because you never know when you might need to break into a full-out sprint

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