Happy Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

I thought this might be a good time to revive this ol' blog.

The snow is gently falling and for the first time this year it is accumulating, though not too much. It is a perfect November day, albeit a little gray. The snow started yesterday when Brian and I dodged out of work an hour early to enjoy a glass of merlot and a bowl of gumbo at a neighborhood tavern where the locals were toasting to the holiday and cursing stores like Target and the Mall of America.

This morning I dragged Brian out for a walk (He was happy to join me, but I like to think that I make him do stuff he might not have done as a bachelor, free to sit around in his underwear watching football on his day off). We just got in from a stroll around the park after ducking into the May Day Cafe for something to warm my hands, coffee’s true purpose.

The other day as I was walking down the alley on my way to the bus stop a familiar neighborhood character whom I recognized from his regular expeditions scouting for discarded items for which there may still be some use (To put it less delicately, he's a dumpster diver.), made a comment in the same thick Vietnamese accent I have come to know after many years with the same mechanic whom I understand no better than I might understand a Berlin shopkeeper with just one year of college German under my belt, and many years ago at that. I get the gist of his point (For example, I’m going to be left stranded in the middle of a blizzard on a deserted highway if I don’t change some belts that aren’t just there for show) and hope there aren’t any gross misunderstandings like he meant 1500 dollars not 150. So far so good.

I saw the scavenger coming up the alley and my first instinct is the avoid him, which becomes impossible once he greets me.

“Good morning!” He says. He catches up to me and says something about the coffee that I have cupped in my hands. Prompted by what must have been a perplexed look on my face he repeats himself (unlike the case with my mechanic, there is no context in which to communicate with this guy who could be talking about anything under the sun.).

"Your coffee smells good. Is it hot?"

Because I can never remember to bring the insulated coffee cups home from work, except for the quarterly roundup of Tupperware, silverware and assorted mugs when they are dutifully carted home, I am carrying just a regular old cup, one that Brian brought home as a souvenir from his last trip home. It's an oversized Red Sox cup and completely inadequate for a walk to the bus stop six blocks away on any day let alone a cold one. My coffee will be stone cold by the time I make it to Bloomington Avenue, the half way point to my stop. I'll have to dump whatever I don't drink (or spill, there’s no lid of course) before boarding the 21. Hopefully caffeine is good for the tree that tends to be the recipient of my wasteful inefficiency. But on certain days, it's worth it to get in couple of sips a few steps past driveway, like training wheels to get you going before you can fly down the street unassisted. For this another cup ends up at work and the cycle continues. So be it. I love my coffee and take great comfort in bringing it with me for however long I can as I venture out of the security of my home. I feel the same way about my cat. I would take her with me everywhere if Wilson and I could see eye-to-eye on this.

I tell the man that I'll have to drink fast and he laughs. I try to think of a way to share a little coffee with him that wouldn't be awkward, but there is none. I want to give him the entire cup to keep for himself because he deserves it more than I do. I notice that my coffee does smell good and I am impressed that he could appreciate a whiff from a distance. I want to thank him for bringing it to my attention, but that would be stupid. We have a chuckle and wave good-bye. I head east toward the bus and he heads west, probably toward another dumpster that looks promising. I hope there is a pot of coffee waiting for him at home after a hard day’s work.

Today I am reminded to notice and be thankful for the simple pleasures in life. I hope I never have so much that the simple pleasures are completely lost on me.

To the simple pleasures! May they always be yours. A cup of coffee. A walk in the park. A good view. A bowl of hot soup. The snow gently falling on a perfect November day, as it should (unless you happen to be teeing off somewhere in Hawaii). A good bed. Comfortable shoes. A roof. Family. Friends. Health. The usual stuff. I am thankful for those fleeting moments when I am completely overwhelmed by all that I have.