Thanks Thanksgiving!

Dear Blog,

Lately I've been in Oregon. Mostly just the usual. Tea, Knitting, Can-can dancing on stage with a reindeer, Cole, Eric, Paul, Rose, and the man singing Christmas carols to thousands of people. You know, typical Thanksgiving stuff.


It's too bad we didn't get in the Daily Tidings. They put Santa on the front page, and it actually was Santa. His name was listed as Santa in the caption. You can't put a fake name in the newspaper!

I arrived in Portland just in time to enjoy the experience of Pete basting a turkey. I enjoyed it immensely! Then Pete and whiskey made me feel right at home. A few hours later I was whisked away by a guy met on craigslist, Eric, and a (literal) bucket of vegan donuts.

Me and Pete hang out in the hospital! A blast from the past I found while sorting through boxes!

The donuts and I cuddled up in the back and enjoyed the two hour drive to the Shire--I mean, Eugene. But when I was all settled into my hobbit hole-- I mean, Ilana and Kyle's hobbit hole my stomach started hurting and I told the donuts we couldn't be friends anymore.

The next morning was nothing but wispy blue clouds in a wispy blue sky, followed by coffee and two breakfasts (typical of hobbits). Next I revisited my beloved Craft Center. Diane described the new floor as "white and covered with blood!" I replied, "I love it!"

On to Ashland Oregon with Cole as chauffer. He pulled off the highway along lonely stretches and hinted "jokingly" that he was planning to kill us. Nevertheless we all made it to Ashland alive and unmaimed and were able to keep our appointment with destiny.

Destiny? Yes, the moment I mentioned earlier. The moment that will live on and on and on... in all hearts of Ashlanders. The moment we shuffled off our mortal limitations and took to the stage!

Each year Ashland has a day after Thanksgiving parade (about 15 minutes of carolers, trucks, and gingerbread men) in which Santa arrives just in time to turn on all the lights downtown. And he gives a speech. After every sentence of joy and thanks he says: "Hurray!" or "Yay!"

This year his speech worked us into such a frenzy that we were shrieking "hurray" right along with him! And when the man who always sings christmas carols came on stage to sing we danced with abandon.

"On the one hand, [dancing on stage] would be the greatest thing ever, on the other hand we'd ruin Christmas!" -Cole Robinson (aka "Scrooge," and "the Grinch")

Still, in such a heightened state of christmas joy there is only one logical next step. So yes, we found ourselves storming the stage (with the help of one of the reindeer) in order to dance behind the solitary man singing "jingle bell rock" to an audience consisting of... Ashland. I saw myself clearly in that moment, highkicking, one hand on Cole's shoulder, one on Paul's, "this is it" I thought. "This is what it's all about..."

Love,
C

ThanksComfort Giving Day at the Park Ave Family's.

Thanksgiving went off just as I planned.  Is that a malevolent way of saying it? Perhaps, considering the circumstances it is.  I planned the coziest, best-tasting, sleepiest, and most wine filled thanksgiving and that is what I got.  Early in the morning Stef and I prepared our home to welcome the waifs and wanderers of this city, that is, our friends.  While Stef pulled the guts out of the turkey (A side note here: we were surprised at how much stuff they store inside the turkey (bags and such)), and danced it about the kitchen I peeled potatoes into a paper bag and watched the Macy's day 
Parade.  We turned the volume up so Stef could hear in the kitchen thus our conversations went something like this: Stef:"Ramumble unmble uh nub, Bumble mumble?" Christy: "Sorry, what?" Stef: "RaMUMble unmble unumb, BUMble MUMble?" etc.  

(It's a habit of ours for Stef to continue to talk to me while I roam from room to room.) We're just like a REAL family.  Anyhow, we then scrambled about cleaning various surfaces with varying amounts of bleach (a ration directly depending upon how much turkey juice had 

spilled on to the surface). 

The first guests arrived early to play games but didn't intend to stay for dinner.  This didn't surprise me greatly since "playing games" was a huge platform in my "come to our house for thanksgiving day" campaign.  So we did.  After the first wave left the second wave or the "nouvelle vague" arrived--and they came to stay.  We busily set about drinking wine, eating pizza as an appetizer, and discussing how good a hostess Stef is.  She plays that role for us, and I am eternally greatful every day.
Dinner time finally arrived after the unprecedented freak storm that ravaged the street with hail, high winds, rain, and lightning for about 30 seconds (The same 30 seconds that it took for our guests to come from their cars into our house, actually).  Thus renewed by our reinstilled awe of nature we sat to sup and found that our awe was renewed again and again with each bite.  Then something really remarkable happened.  We decided it was "quiet time" or "nap time" or "whatever" and each and every guest got up from the table and immediately set about cleaning the kitchen. I was so impressed. I have never seen such well behaved boys and girls in my life.
Finally we collapsed in a well crafted pile of blankets which I had installed on the floor of our living room for just such a purpose as napping.  And nap we did in the coziest puppiest pile of all.  Shortly thereafter we played "football" with a "football." Then we tucked in desert, played games, and settled into a nice viewing of Fried Green Tomatoes which mostly resulted in a lively discussion of Lesbianism's presense in films from the 1990's.  Also, mid-film, we had yet a third influx of guests.  The final scene of our Thanksgiving day included Kristen wrapped in blankets rolling about in the center of the room, an interactive discussion of astrology, and another lovely bottle of wine. The End.