America's Thanksgiving is tomorrow.
I remember the days of family feasts.
Grandparents coming in from the city.
Then potlucks, and attempts at a home dinner around her newsroom schedule.
(Who the fuck watches the news on Thanksgiving?)
I work early. She works late. And on holidays.
We argued over whether stuffing had mushrooms and water chestnuts.
So, I made both.
Still, the cats really liked turkey.
But so much effort for so much wasted food.
And they catered or potlucked her work.
So, I challenged myself to make anti-Thankgiving feasts.
An art project, or an excuse not to accept some awkward pity-invitation from friends or coworkers.
The most amusing pathetic solo meals.
Nah, too complicated.
Better.
But then...
Oh. Yes.
Facebook was right... they're open.
Thin crust wood-fired pizza from Kennealy's in Houston.
My favorite. Her favorite.
I picked up two.
There's corned beef on the other pizza.
They're open this year, so I guess that makes a tradition.
I can take a break from the vegan diet for a day, right?
Down 66 pounds, cholesterol and A1C and blood pressure are better.
What's one day, really?
A day to just relax. And reflect.
And be grateful for...
For getting nagged to death into finally seeing a show.
And then shown there are so many more.
For the dance and the dancers.
The choreographers and the set designers.
The creators and dreamers.
Half a second here, do it this way, no THAT way.
The toolmakers and the tools.
The hosts and the deejays (whether I take an obligatory photo of their butt or not).
The teachers and the mentors.
The directors and the dictators.
The shooters and the fans.
Shit, I missed that damn backflip again, did you get it?
And the opportunity to help promote and organize some of this.
(Whether you use the calendar or not, not that I'm judging you for that, it's all okay... but send in those notecards anyway!)
So others can enjoy the magic and the madness.
What I'd been missing all that time.
Until I finally opened that door.
And found... you.
When I did my love letters to dance in the form of interviews on Inara's Living in a Modem World, one word kept coming up: Family.
Through Second Life Dance, so many people have found where they belong.
And I've found mine.
I keep that bookmarked in my browser's bookmarks bar.
It's my pause button for whatever's trying to harsh my mellow.
That moment where you know it will all be okay.
Flicking through the snapshots, the albums, the moments.
The memories.
Through the lag and the loonies, the good and the bad, the pain and the joy, tests and rehearsals and showtime, filling the sim our outnumbering the audience... always classy!
And I'm so goddamned grateful for you all.
-R
(What are you thankful for?)