Tag Archives: thanksgiving eve

Sap Sap Sappy Thanksgiving 2oThirteen.

This Thanksgiving Eve finds me sitting at an Ikea kitchen table that I shared with an ex, once upon a time. It’s now in my bedroom. In my parents’ house. There’s only one chair. (The other one was lost in a flood.) It’s also from Ikea. This visual gets more depressing with every passing detail. There’s even a candle. Unlit. And an opened box of Entenmann’s “donuts.” And a feline reposing in my lap. Just kidding… about those last two things, anyway.

The floor behind me is, literally, covered with books and laundry and 10 pairs of shoes and five pieces of luggage and 37 pieces of cameras and a statue of Ganesha.

So, at 28, this probably isn’t exactly where most people would want to be. But I am thankful to be here.

This has been one crazy year (so far). I didn’t realise until my mum brought it to my attention, but I set foot on five continents in eight months. That’s, like, the definition of a crazy year. But also the definition of a remarkable year.

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Thanksgiving Weekend: Better Than A High School Reunion

I have it on good authority that Thanksgiving Eve is a pretty widely celebrated event (unlike Sunday Funday – Hello, Jersey!) but I think beach people do it up right.  We’ve got boardwalk bars and theoretically, no bennies to behold, as it is not appropriate wife beater-donning weather.  You and everyone you wish you went to high school with go out and get merry.  Then, to your parents’ dismay and/or relief, you crash on someone’s couch and end up at home just in time for an absurdly early dinner feast.  Or at least that’s how it “should” be.  This year on Thanksgiving Eve, I slept in my own bed, and spent the [hangover-free] next day baking apple pie.  Seaside hardly saw any of the familiar faces, let alone the used-to-be-familiar ones, who usually show up on this venerated bar night.  Maybe we can blame the economy.  Or the fact that we’re beginning to grow up?

On Saturday, I celebrated two of my friends’ birthdays with dinner and a party, which definitely made up for a lackluster Wednesday.  Just about everyone I missed on T.E. was there.  As I scanned the room full of good-looking guests, I realized that the couch looked like a scene from 1080 Snowboarding: 4 or 5 guys with scruffy facial hair and beanies lounged with beer cans resting on their Billabong-clad knees.  These guys have lived in Hawaii and Costa Rica and talk of returning, and oddly enough, dreaming of traveling to these paradises made me feel like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

The morning after:

Blown-over sand dunes = forced rule breaking (if you want to access the beach).

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