Sitting in my seat waiting for the symphony to start I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that I’d forgotten something. I checked my purse; opera glasses, cough drops, iPhone, miniature rubber pig that makes oinking sounds when you squeeze it. Nope, seemed like I had everything. But I still couldn’t sit back, relax and enjoy the soothing sounds of ABBA as interpreted by the Toronto Symphony Orchestra.
Mama Mia. I knew what I forgot.
I forgot I should be in my living room which currently looked like airline wreckage, not on the first balcony of Roy Thompson Hall, swaying back and forth like some sort of Swedish music loving lunatic. I had things to do. Deadlines to meet.
I HAD 12 PEOPLE COMING FOR THANKSGIVING DINNER IN 4 DAYS AND MY HOUSE LOOKED LIKE THIS.
But when someone texts you the night before and asks you to go see a symphony, the entire evening dedicated to Swedish supergroup ABBA complete with soundalike singers flown in from Finland … well you just don’t say nej.
You also don’t say no when someone asks you to go to Vancouver for a week, an antique show, Ikea, or down the street to see a really weird shaped insect carcass on the sidewalk. You just don’t.
In spite of all of this I am pleased to announce that after 3 weeks of hard work and late nights I did not meet my Thanksgiving deadline for making over the lower floor of my house.
It was quite an accomplishment for me to not meet my deadline and choose fun over work for 3 weeks.
I took a chance on me. ‘Cause you know, I’ve got, so much that I want to do. It’s madnessss.
I took these photos about an hour before I went out for the night instead of staying home and putting together a bunch of bookcases. I glanced around, stepped over some garbage and locked the door behind me muttering screw it.
Thanksgiving in Canada was yesterday. I had my Thanksgiving dinner on Sunday.
As of Tuesday I had bought no groceries, couldn’t even pick my way across my living room and even though I had finished painting all the rooms, I was afraid to clean and put away my painting supplies in case I’d missed a spot and needed them.
This was not a kitchen ready for my famous Thanksgiving walk around the island with my arm up a turkey’s butt while saying “Lambchop! Where did all your curls go?”. It just wasn’t.
But guess what? Even after going on vacation for a week, wandering the streets of Toronto, and having some socially conventional fun, I still got enough done that come Sunday afternoon all 12 guests could meander through the house, sit at the dinner table and spray whipped cream directly into their mouths.
Which really is all Thanksgiving is all about.
Go ahead. I dare you. ;)
I still don’t know if I am right or wrong, but after tedious, only in-my-head, decades-long (I am old) philosophical discussions with me taking both sides and arguing between the merits of doing what I wanted versus what I should/was socially expected of me, whether to give my limited time to care/support family (virtue?) when I truly needed to care for myself (selfish?), and wondering what God would say, should I meet him/her when I die, I decided, that after being blessed with this wonderful world, with blue skies, oceans, rivers, green fields, flowers, spices, chocolate, wine, with music and laughter and love, the only question he/she would ask is, “Did you have fun?”
As I am dancing barefoot in my kitchen to Abba twirling in my RoughLinen Pinnafore, (thank you, Karen), I can answer, “Yes! Today, I had a ball!”
Rock on sister. ;) ~ karen!
Yup.
I think that’s the way to do it.
Doing fun things make you more interesting to your guests. They can walk around a work in progress and stuff themselves with pasta and olives and be perfectly content.
My motto: Invite them, and they will come.