Stuffed. I'm lying on my back letting the food sit atop my spine, like birds on a power line. The tryptophan is doing its job, sleepy is taking control. I just had a great meal with great friends. The whole kit-and-cabootle: turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, sweet potato casserole, rolls, and Martinelli's, of course. It feels great just being here in this warm Manhattan apartment with a slight brisk breeze coming through the opened windows. Some DC friends and I were able to use my friends, Jon and Madison's, apartment on the upper east side during the holiday weekend because they were going to be out of town, back home to SLC. Their apartment is cozy and inviting. The walls are covered with pictures, maps and posters, and found objects scattered across New York sidewalks. I like it here, as I always do.
This morning started off with an early appointment with Mr. Turkey. Yes, I was in charge of turkey this year, my first time preparing the beastly bird. At first the whole task was daunting, but then, I remembered my Saturday mornings spent in my youth watching nothing but cooking shows on PBS. I pulled from my mind images of Julia Childs, placed her beside me in the kitchen and went to work. I have been in cahoots with my grandma all week long in order to get the exact directions on making the turkey perfect. I took out the innards, covered it in salt, gave her some thyme and rosemary, stuffed her, coated her in butter and then led her into the small oven. She fit right in that house, cozy as a...uh...cucumber?
Afterwards, I headed out to meet up with the group of friends, meeting just west of Central Park to watch the Macy's Day parade. The balloons filled the sky, like frozen-in-time fireworks. I stood there, mouth ajar, just staring at these figures of media, remembering all the Thursday mornings spent watching the parade on NBC, amazed by the sites, the biggness, the sounds and the colours. It was a momentous occasion to be there in person. Children were laughing and pointing, mothers were calm and collective gathering their kids up with excitement, fathers were brawny and intellectual, reminiscing about their thanksgiving days of past, everyone was so happy and I was too. We stood just west of Central Park on a brick wall watching the parade floats before they took off to begin the actual journey towards Macy's Department Store. I saw stars-galore, media'd up and all glorified. Most of all, it felt great spending the morning with friends, all excited like a kid on mornings at grandmas watching theparade on TV.
So now we've eaten and I'm stuffed. I'm thankful too, it truly is a great day for thanks. I was able to call some of my family, people enjoying each other throughout the country. My dad is spending the day with my sister and her kids, her oldest and my nephew Kristofer, spoke complete sentences to me (although half in Tongan). I remember seeing him as a newborn and holding him in my arms. It's amazing how fast he grows. He finished his sentence with "I love ya, bye". He's such a good kid and I'm thankful for having him in my life, and my sister, and all my family. I'm thankful for love and for joy. For good times and bad times. For life in general, I'm thankful for that. Thanks NYC.