Who are we kidding?

I realize that blogging is for people who, aware of it or not, are in semi-retirement. Despite working my ass off most of the time, by virtue of being a Miami transplant for more than seven years. I too unwittingly entered semi retirement. Though this work status is a type A lifestyle compared to the rest of the natives who long ago figured out that working is completely hazardous to one’s physical and mental health. These savvy folk take full advantage of living in a tropical paradise by cycling, fishing and boating all day.




This is a perfect segue into a blog about Thanksgiving. Thanksgivings in Miami are fun but not particularly memorable. Take a look outside today. 75 degrees, no air of festiveness or battling the elements. And this is because Thanksgiving doesn’t exist here.  Unless you just came from hostile lands or the snow-cased north, Thanksgiving is a figment of our sun spotted imagination, as is Christmas, Easter, and any other holiday other than the 4th of July and New Years. Those two holidays still exist here because the sole objective is to party.


Frankly today could be any month here. If I didn’t know otherwise, It might as well be March. What the real purpose of today is to go outside and do a sport you have been longing to do for ages, or in the case of most of the wisemen, do one for a little bit longer than you usually do every day. And frankly the meal should be excesses of conch chowder, tilapia and mofongo and key lime pie.



Now that I’m on the cusp of middle age, I am nostalgic about  Thanksgivings past. Getting snowed in our house in New Hampshire and having no option but to order pizza, meals when we all re-convened in Nashville and overfed the dog with leftovers, and waking up in frigid weather to try to catch a glimpse of the Macy’s Day Parade in NY. Those were real Thanksgivings, ones in which we gladly gave thanks for heaters, pro football games and hot chocolate.


Well I could wax poetic but I have sort of lost my train of thought so I will end this blog here. Besides, my baby son who probably thinks the whole world is covered with palm trees and green grass is crying. And I have a one o’clock tee time.

Happy Thanksgiving!





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