I tried, I really did. To come up with something a hell of a lot more clever than:

Happy Thanksgiving.

Totally couldn’t think of anything.

So, a Happy Thanksgiving, it is.

We headed to my Aunt J’s for T-day. I love Aunt J. She’s my home girl. Fo sho.

She had the family pieces out and ready. Those being our monogrammed napkins and tablecloth from 1880, and my favorite set of Limoges dishes, also hailing from around the same time.

As a Taurus, I have such a strong streak of tradition, especially with family items. I love incorporating them into special uses and their own “new” traditions.

Dinner proved to be quite the spread. Brother ate with a gusto I hadn’t seen in a long time, and I was close behind.

I’m just now recovering from all that fabulous tryptophan. And my stomach is once again resuming its normal size.

I didn’t think I had over eaten, but clearly I did. I think it was somewhere between the extra helping of cornbread casserole and sweet potatoes that did me in.

It was so worth it though.

Per tradition, I stumbled over to my Aunt J’s nearest couch — I say nearest since there are three within 10 feet of each other — and collapsed.

There’s nothing like a holiday napper. Really.

And now. I am off to bed.

But not before I once again go through my list of thanks. In no particular order:

1. You. Yes, you. You’re reading this aren’t you? Thanks.

2. The fam.

3. Yoga.

4. All my beloved animals.

5. My super fabulous BF.

6. Friends. All of ’em.

7. Good food.

8. To sum it all up: everything and everyone that has touched my life — from letterpress to that a-hole who cut me off on the road the other day {that is a joke, he wasn’t entirely an a-hole} — it’s all a part of helping me re-member me.

Thank you.