turkey: a lament

We forgot that it was Canadian Thanksgiving until midway through this past weekend, and it was just as well. Less time to feel sorry for myself that I can't go back to the homestead. I think you have to special-order turkeys here, and it would have taken approximately two weeks to cook one in our oven anyway. So we didn't bother - but I sure do miss pumpkin pie! I miss walking in the local conservation area, going to the market, and, as ever, Second Cup chai lattes. I've already started to get that bubbly Christmas giddiness (partly because I've booked my flights home!), but I am unable to engage in my traditions of bopping around Williams Sonoma to their jazzy carols, buying something for myself with each gift for someone else at Sephora, and walking home slowly along Queen Street West, window shopping and stopping for goodies in Dufflet's. I miss Toronto!

Still, it's a time for thanksgiving, n'est-ce pas? And I do appreciate what I have. Yesterday I watched Jeff fold his laundry while watching an episode of MI-5 on his laptop, and I got a cosy homey feeling. (Perhaps the significance of this event is lost on you, but at the laundromat in the old days he used to shove his clean clothes in a bag - where they would sometimes sit and wrinkle for days - and leave me behind, painstakingly pairing socks and ordering shirts by colour.) And he made his heavenly crepes last night and has just gone to the store to buy eggs because it's raining and I am weary from soccer and can't be bothered to change into pants that are acceptable in the outside world.

Today I cut my tongue while licking an envelope, which was really cool and everything. I thought it would at least help with the diet, but it's amazing what pain can be endured in order to enjoy a Ben's cookie. I'm eating as though I plan to hibernate for six months. Where will the madness end?

P.S. Happy thanksgiving, everyone - I miss you loads!