So late November is the season in USia to get together with family, watch football, and eat. It's tricky.

I just re-read last year's Thanksgiving entry. There are tears in my eyes.

I think I'm better now. Life is still hard, but in different ways.

I had a number of invitations; one from about August or so, from an online friend, a member of the group that got together in South Philly in June. Wasn't sure I wanted to travel, and, uh, there are assumptions which differ a bit, about where life should go. Though those folks are all of them damaged, which in a way is refreshing, because they're tolerant of other people's damage.

And the annual get-together hosted by the guy in the next office and his partner (who works downstairs). I was tempted by that one. A fair number of the folks in that crowd are people I knew in grad school lo these many years past, and whom I rarely see (except the few who work closely with me).

And another from a woman in the choir, who has been extraordinarily compassionate concerning my troubles. She invited me last Sunday, by which time I had things in place. Another time, perhaps. Somehow it always is that way.

So toxicfur's landlady, who lives upstairs from her, invited toxicfur for dinner. She said she'd done dinner with me last year and might again (misremembering; see link above), so J invited me too.

Life has a funny way of doing weird shit. Feasting with one's ex on holidays... Well, it's not the weirdest thing that's happened in the down-the-rabbit-hole, through-the-looking-glass life I lead these days.

So I made the same cranberry sauce, and roasted a butternut squash...

wherein hangs a tale. Last spring toxicfur accompanied me to the garden center; the garden was always her thing. I bought a few tomatoes, some peppers, peas and green beans, and some seeds: radishes, carrots, and a pumpkin. Soon enough, the morning glories from years past overran the garden, and while the pumpkin vine did come up, it was choked in other, greedier vines. There's a metaphor here.

However, in preparing the bed, I had spaded in a bunch of compost from the previous year, including, it seems, viable butternut squash seeds. One such vine had the foresight to hop the board holding up the raised bed, and make for freedom across the lawn. Where it found abundant sun, and fruited rather magnificently. Another such vine grew right out of the compost heap, which is in the shadow of the garage. Its fruit was a few inches smaller, and not quite done being green come the frost, but was also tasty.

... according to the same recipe for roasted pumpkin with cranberries, and the last of the sage from this summer's herb garden.

I phoned my mother; something we do rarely in my family for whatever reason. She's recently taken a fall, and is up and around again but with several purple toes the doctor wants x-rays of. Mobility is so fragile in one's late 80s.

And so to toxicfur's house, with an armload of stuff. We rewarmed the roasted squash, found that the cook upstairs wasn't quite as far along as planned, so hung out watching football, went and walked the dogs, etc. before finally going up around 3 pm.

I have met J and E (toxicfur's landlady and her partner), but not J's daughter S. Good company all. I had, with some trepidation, thought through some responses to hypothetical questions, about how, well, weird, life is, for want of a better adjective.

Mercifully, J is a barker, so no such responses were required or requested. She has interesting stories to tell, but is firmly a devotee of the Church of Interruption, and about as diametrically opposed to my conversational style (meek, in the parlance of that article) as it would be possible to be.

The food was heavenly, the company wonderful, J's stories filled the time nicely, and the poodle even warmed up to us a bit, after she became convinced we weren't going to try anything to harm her people.

The cat, after eating his delayed dinner upon my return, sniffed me minutely, with visions of dead birdses no doubt dancing in his head.

And so, to bed. It was a good day. And most of my roasting pans and such are in J's kitchen this morning.