SPAGHETTI WARS PLANNED FOR THANKSGIVING

This is the year everyone goes elsewhere else for Thanksgiving and so we have been invited to go to Taylor and Sharee's house. This is what she said in an email today:

"We can laugh and throw spaghetti at the cats or just put their heads in socks and watch them try to get out. At the very least it will be laugh therapy. "

Now, I ask you, how could things be better than that?

One year we were at their house for Thanksgiving. The weather was like September. My dad came up to spend Thanksgiving with us and we sat on the back porch, in the sun with him. Dad's gone now. He lived seventeen years after Mom died and he took such good care of us, his adult children. How I miss him. We all miss him.

I don't know if it's the same year or not but one year we were at Taylor and Sharee's house and I bought Silly String for every member of the family. I told them to come out back--it was warm so maybe it was the same year. Some of the parents weren't coming so I nagged and said at least bring your cameras--of course, no one did so there are no photos. Finally everyone was there and I "armed" them.
The Silly String flew. The laughter bubbled up in explosive bursts. It was one minute of craziness. If I remember right I was covered with every color. I could hardly see out of the tangled mess.

One grandson couldn't get his silly string to work. He was simply too little. Every one's canister was empty but Mark's. He kept saying in a little voice, "I can't do it," while the frenzy was in full force all around him.

When everyone's Silly String canister was empty, Tricia--generous girl that she is--said, "Here Mark, let me help you." She picked him up and the two of them sprayed all of us, laughing like two happily demented people. I can still see the two of them, spraying the last burst of colored goop. We were too startled to do anything but just stand there and take it.

Sometimes Thanksgiving's aren't traditional. Sometimes they are extraordinary!

Here's hoping your Thanksgiving--and ours--is one of those extraordinary ones. Or one with someone you love, sitting in the sun, talking and storing up a feeling of peace you can draw upon in years to come.