Good food. Good wine. Great friends. Great family. I have them. You know what I also have?
Pants with elastic waistbands.
Not too much elastic, mind you. I don't want anything to curtail my gluttony. TurDucKen? Bring it. Everything Mashed Potatoes? Thankyouveddymuch. Green Bean Casserole? Don't mind if I do. Trifle? Certainly not a pittance. Cranberry wine? Keep it coming.
Oh, but, KAK, what about your figure? Your cholesterol? Your health? How 'bout you hand me a Tums and take a seat while I remind you of what it means to live.
Living = Doing the things that make you happy.
I'm not interested in eking out another day in my waning years at the expense of seeing my sister's face light up as I tear into the spuds she made. It took her years to nail the right consistency and flavor. (One year, I actually wore the tragic result as a hat before the dog ran off with it). I want the happy times of sitting around a fire, sipping cordials with my friends and laughing. Yes, marshmallows will be roasted. They'll be smooshed between chocolate and graham crackers.
What? At some point in the future my walker is going miss me? I'll ruin the orderly's day because there's one less diaper to change? Please. I enjoy the life I have now. There are no guarantees the bus isn't going to run me over tomorrow. Ba-bump.
Good food. Good wine. Great friends. Great family. I have them. I enjoy spending time with them.
For too many people the holiday season marks the onset of angst. The sturm and drang overtake the joy. Here's what aging has taught me:
Be Fucking Happy.
Have seconds if you want them. Do try the dessert. Warble those old standards at the top of your lungs. Dance with all the non-existant rhythm you have. Let laughter be your workout.
Always own at least one pair of pants with elastic waistbands.
Happy Thanksgiving, all!
photo liberally lifted from: http://www.crazyworkingmom.com/2009/11/happy-thanksgiving-yall.html
