A Thanksgiving Tale, or The Return of the Roommate

A few years ago, back in Boulder, we had two young men live with us for two years. Kevin moved on then, but Rivers stayed another year, and got to witness the early transition of the Lykosh five from suburbanites to homesteaders. When we got our first batch of chicks, he sent an email to Kevin, to alert him to the new life in the living room.

Kevin said that, when we had Thanksgiving on the farm, let him know and he would come.

That was probably early 2008. We hadn't moved in 2008, and last year we were away with my family for the week. But this was the year.

I experimented with the best recipes using our own meats, and from Wednesday to noon today, we've enjoyed a smorgasbord of pork sausage stew, lamb meatloaf, bacon and eggs, roast chicken, home-cured ham, and sundry milkshakes and smoothies to round out the high-protein diet. How pleasant to have food to share.

We talked and went on the trail of Thomas Jefferson (we walked around the Rotunda at UVA, and were stopped at the visitor center of Monticello, unable to get closer since we were unwilling to pay for a tour); the guys shot rifles and hiked around.

For the actual Thanksgiving meal, I had been planning to simply have a chicken, since our toaster oven has a hard time with anything much larger than that. But the Bushes invited us to their family celebration. Kevin and Doug had an extended jam fest on the guitar; Phil and I got to talk and talk, for eight hours, with our dear friends we don't see often enough.

The seven children played together happily: football, flashlight high and seek after dark, various imaginative games interspersed.

We are thankful for a day off, to celebrate with friends. We have much to be thankful for.