It’s a little after noon on Thanksgiving Day. I am sitting here writing this while sipping my coffee, brewed with freshly ground Peet’s beans in filtered water, all the while humming a few bars of Alice’s Restaurant as Arlo endlessly blathers in the background.
My 19+ pound, outrageously expensive, branded, minimally processed, free range, dry rubbed turkey is nestled in the oven sans two thirds of each of its wings. I use the wings for my giblet gravy, because the thought of eating gizzards is a bit too intense for my pampered, Beverly Hills self to digest.
The wing tips are currently simmering in my soup pot, along with onions, celery, carrots and other stuff. Soon, I will have my turkey stock for making my gravy later today. Ironically, cooking the turkey is the easy part of my day. Making the gravy, which requires a whole lot of hands-on time and micro adjustments to get the taste right, is the hardest task I have left to do.
If I count our two grandkids, we will have 16 people eating here tonight, a big crowd for our little dining room. The good news is that the workload has been divvied up, with everybody contributing, giving me time to reflect on what I am thankful for.
Yup. Different year. Same Thanksgiving Day stuff for me. Thankfully. And I have a lot to be thankful for.
Pam and I are healthy, or as healthy as can be expected for two people staring down the gun barrel of our 50th high school reunion later this year.
Shelby, Bryan, Portia and Ford, their son, not their car, are doing great, in life and in their respective careers. Sometimes I watch Shelby mother Portia and am amazed by just how good she is at it. Clearly, she got those genes from Pam. Ford is seven months old, and his birth was the highlight of the year for us. Portia continues to amaze us with her precociousness and unbelievable control over all the others in her life, Bryan, never being content with their house, has begun a substantial remodeling project to make room for Ford. Otherwise, Ford may have had to sleep in the garage alongside the other Ford or shared a room with Portia, a potentially ego damaging event for a Ford. The way I see it, their remodeling costs will most likely be lower than the potential therapy costs if they do not remodel.
Kimberly, happily relationshipless and pursuing a new opportunity at her job, is doing great. She loves to travel, and has now, thanks to stellar advice from the psychic at the wedding of the daughter of our friends, became part of the international team at the company for which she works. In the few weeks since she has made the transition, she has been two Europe twice, once to England and once to France. She will be in Mexico next month. That same psychic told her that she will find romance in 2023. Sadly, the psychic did not specify whether Kim would find the romance domestically or internationally.
Pam, my saintly wife, is the rock star of our family. She continues to work for the school district, all the while counting down the months to retirement. I think the main thing preventing her from pulling the trigger is that I work at home. She has had a great year, spending time with Portia and Ford, who she tells me will be sleeping here tonight for the first time. Pam was recently appointed to the Human Relations Commission in Beverly Hills, an appointment she worked hard to obtain. We were all impressed and proud of her efforts and appointment. As Pam is one of the nicest people I know, I think this is the perfect commission for her. Pam continues to work out at Pure Barre. I think she has done almost 1,400 workouts there, making her an inspiration for us and the younger, post-boomers who work out there with her.
Pam and I finally took our first post Covid vacation in October, parking our butts in Wailea for about a week. It is our happy place, a place where we do very little except eat, exercise, bask in the shade, float in the ocean, and drink mai tais. We had a great trip and are planning another one for 2023.
I continue to spend just about every weekday in my den, mainly working, but sometimes, though not as often as I should, getting out of it. I do get out to walk Jake, our dog, twice per day, and every three weeks or so to walk the five blocks to Supercuts to get the hairs that are remaining on my head cut. Every now and then I have a weekday lunch with friends, and I actually went on a business trip this year. As I have noted before, I kind of embrace the hermit lifestyle.
This year was a transition for me, though, as I began to generate more of my own CFO consulting projects and rely less on work from my previous employer. I expect this transition to continue in 2023, and with it more “out of my den” outings during the week. Of course, that means I might be more impacted by high gas prices, something I have been immune to in 2022, as I have purchased gas only three times for my Cayman, my “daily” driver, throughout 2022. I think it’s a bit miffed at me for that, but at least I start it weekly, which is more than I can say for my 89 Carrera, which is on a trickle charger in the garage and which I do not start for months at a time.
I did, however, make a change in my life this year. Not a big one, but bigger than the rest of my changes this year. I decided todump, along with many other Americans, my Peloton. It served its purpose for 18 months, but I would rather walk or run than spin so I bought a treadmill. I continue to use my Tonal for strength training, meaning I never have to leave my house to exercise.
Time is ticking, and I have been sitting here for long enough, blathering far longer than Arlo. It’s time to take stock of my turkey stock and get on with the rest of my day.
Happy Thanksgiving.