Thanksgiving

It seems like forever since I last wrote but in reality I skipped just yesterday. it feels like longer.

I’m experiencing burnout and blogging is just one of many things that I haven’t had the energy or mindset to do. All the symptoms are there – talking too much, listening too little, interrupting, eating too much sugar (probably causing the aforementioned), sleeping too little, avoiding the essential things on my todo list in preference for pretty things like taking pics and baking and reading and taking long long long baths. And not paying Monkeyface enough attention.

I’m ashamed to say that the booking in the bookingandbedding has also become a bit phoned in too. Monkey face hasn’t been dashing to grab a book any more than I have. She’s still loving her dolls-house and all of the other wonders she was gifted for her birthday and it seems a bit mean to tear her away from them. We have still been reading but like so many other things, the steady, easy routine we established has been shoehorned aside to make way for other things. But life continues and so does the reading. And the enthusiasm will return and ebb as it does with any longterm activity.

We are currently favouring Each Peach Pear Plum but that is also partly to my own laziness, knowing we can currently read it without causing an international incident. She knows the rhymes and enjoys pointing out the items on each page with care. There’s a lot on this lovely book and I enjoy it too. I can’t remember all of the nursery rhymes it aspires to and it is an ongoing intention of mine to look them all up and share them with her. But these are treasures that don’t need to be unlocked overnight. The beauty of the books that are read over and over again is that they reveal themselves constantly. Reading them with a young child is to slowly discover their depths.

As today is thanksgiving, I’ll be making an extra special effort with my loved ones tonight. They have come last a lot. I may not be American, but I have some things to give thanks for. For the last few years I’ve cooked some American Thanksgiving staples on Nov 24th – as I do on July 4th – and tonight will be no exception. Not because I am an Americaphile, but I do so in the same way that I observed Chinese New Year for over a decade and have veggie haggis on Burns Night. Any excuse to celebrate. Any excuse to appropriate other cultural heritage (I know it’s tragic, but it’s fun.) Bring it on. The only night I don’t really like is New Years Eve. Unless you are actually still in a position to get off your face sufficiently to fail to notice that you are sopping wet, freezing and still in the queue at midnight the whole night is just too much pressure for too little reward.

Tonight I’ll be picking some books that celebrate the joy of where we are now, who we are now and who we are with now and that life constantly provides us with chances and opportunities.

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