It’s Thanksgiving weekend here in Canada.
I don’t care much about the turkey or the mashed potatoes (although I did just finish making a pretty kickass pumpkin cheesecake) but I’m a real sucker for holidays – Hallmark or otherwise.
The big ones like Valentine’s Day or Christmas get the most hatred – but all of them, from Thanksgiving to Halloween, to birthdays and anniversaries big and small – they are so, so important to me. They are signifiers. They signify the importance of love or giving thanks or the simple joy of dressing up like a slutty hot dog and ringing in Nov 1 by puking up tiny mars bars.
Regardless of what they mean, I like to mark these days any way I can.
Life gets busy, and sometimes holidays just seem like another thing on the list. But when you take the time to recognize them and dig through all the consumer bullshit to find what they were truly meant to mean, they become signposts and milestones. Where your life has taken you, where your decisions have led.
So, it’s Thanksgiving. And I don’t eat turkey, but I certainly do have a hell of a lot to be grateful for.