So it's been 3 months since I last blogged, and that's pretty sad.
I'm writing from New York, in Queens, where my sister lives. The family decided to come here for Thanksgiving this year. As expected, Thanksgiving was a spectacular and amazing event. It just so happens to be my favorite holiday of all time.
I wanted to take a moment to think about what Thanksgiving really is. I feel awful about it, because the roots of the holiday find themselves in the massacre and genocide of the indigenous people of North America. The myth of the natives and the pilgrims sitting down together, sharing a meal, and smiling at each other is hardly based in fact.
I take no pride whatsoever in the origin of this holiday, but love it for very different reasons. Thanksgiving is the one day a year that nearly every business shuts down. People are have nothing better to do than get together with their family or loved ones, have a meal, and enjoy each other's company (and maybe watch football).
I love it. It's great to spend time with may family. The women in my family can cook so well that it's scary. We usually play some kind of board game. I partake in a beer or seven. I get to watch the broncos (saddest loss ever). It's just a great day.
And also, when I spend any amount of time with my sister, and especially when booze is involved this happens:
It has been a great day, and I am so thankful for everything I have, especially my family.