Dear November,
You came and went so quickly, I hardly got to know you. You made the ridiculously quick month of October seem like an eternity in comparison. Your first two weeks held nothing special. Your third week brought me illness and a slightly new outlook on my evening and weekend endeavors. Your final ten days brought my father's 75th birthday and Thanksgiving. A restful final weekend capped off the month. As the year draws to a close, I am finally starting to feel (and possibly even act) my age.
Sickness hit me for the first time since last November. A healthy year aside from some minor allergies in early spring. A week's worth of coughing, but a few OTC drugs and all was fine. I'm really starting to believe that this Swine Flu was nothing more than a government hoax to appease the pharmaceutical companies and doctors before the hammer drops and we join the 21st century with some, dare I say it, socialized medicine. One full year of useless blood tests to generate some medical revenue. I mean really people, Swine Flu vs Regular Flu? The only difference - more people die from the regular flu. Pandemic? I call it bullshit.
The lingering cough didn't stop me from looking forward with great anticipation for my favorite holiday. Thanksgiving started with an almost four hour ride with my brother and sis-in-law to Ithaca. A dreary day was brightened by my excited father. The 'kids' took my father to the supermarket and then we all took a nice afternoon siesta. I could definitely get into that routine. More of the same the following day, with a little football thrown in. We followed that with a deep fried turkey, some dressing, ("It wasn't in the bird so it's dressing exclaimed my father!" I was already aware of this thanks to Paula Deen and Alton Brown!), some mashed potatoes, cauliflower and some seasonal squash, yams, and a nice variety of delicious wines. I preferred the Chilean selection. A slice of pie later and some dishes and I was off to football land. Triptophan setting in, I relaxed on the couch. Eyelids started to get heavy and by midnight I believe everyone was in a food coma. The next morning we all piled into the car and headed back to reality. A good time was had by all.
November saw an odd twist for me. Three of four Fridays and Sunday were spent home. No libations and a lessened amount of football. Some were due to sickness, some sheer exhaustion, but I found myself not missing the weekly weekend grind and awoke each morning refreshed and ready to seize the next day. Am I maturing? I'd like to think not. Those I know who exude maturity definitely don't seem to be that happy. I'd like to think it's a re-juicing of the metaphoric batteries. Maybe it's a shut down with full knowledge that December holds holiday parties and yearly treks that include hours of ruining my liver and testing the kidneys. Good food, good friends and lots of drinks. It's what December is all about.
You came and went so quickly, I hardly got to know you. You made the ridiculously quick month of October seem like an eternity in comparison. Your first two weeks held nothing special. Your third week brought me illness and a slightly new outlook on my evening and weekend endeavors. Your final ten days brought my father's 75th birthday and Thanksgiving. A restful final weekend capped off the month. As the year draws to a close, I am finally starting to feel (and possibly even act) my age.
Sickness hit me for the first time since last November. A healthy year aside from some minor allergies in early spring. A week's worth of coughing, but a few OTC drugs and all was fine. I'm really starting to believe that this Swine Flu was nothing more than a government hoax to appease the pharmaceutical companies and doctors before the hammer drops and we join the 21st century with some, dare I say it, socialized medicine. One full year of useless blood tests to generate some medical revenue. I mean really people, Swine Flu vs Regular Flu? The only difference - more people die from the regular flu. Pandemic? I call it bullshit.
The lingering cough didn't stop me from looking forward with great anticipation for my favorite holiday. Thanksgiving started with an almost four hour ride with my brother and sis-in-law to Ithaca. A dreary day was brightened by my excited father. The 'kids' took my father to the supermarket and then we all took a nice afternoon siesta. I could definitely get into that routine. More of the same the following day, with a little football thrown in. We followed that with a deep fried turkey, some dressing, ("It wasn't in the bird so it's dressing exclaimed my father!" I was already aware of this thanks to Paula Deen and Alton Brown!), some mashed potatoes, cauliflower and some seasonal squash, yams, and a nice variety of delicious wines. I preferred the Chilean selection. A slice of pie later and some dishes and I was off to football land. Triptophan setting in, I relaxed on the couch. Eyelids started to get heavy and by midnight I believe everyone was in a food coma. The next morning we all piled into the car and headed back to reality. A good time was had by all.
November saw an odd twist for me. Three of four Fridays and Sunday were spent home. No libations and a lessened amount of football. Some were due to sickness, some sheer exhaustion, but I found myself not missing the weekly weekend grind and awoke each morning refreshed and ready to seize the next day. Am I maturing? I'd like to think not. Those I know who exude maturity definitely don't seem to be that happy. I'd like to think it's a re-juicing of the metaphoric batteries. Maybe it's a shut down with full knowledge that December holds holiday parties and yearly treks that include hours of ruining my liver and testing the kidneys. Good food, good friends and lots of drinks. It's what December is all about.
Comments
Post a Comment