One More Writer

[My uncle Tom Reti carves the turkey as my Aunt Julie supervises. Julie is married to a Tom, by the way, but a different Tom, which is why I use last names to distinguish in my family. To make matters worse, my cousin Eliza married a Tom this summer. My grandfather's name is Tom, although he likely can't remember his own name at this point as he has Alzheimer's. My Aunt Cathy's last husband was also named Tom. In fact, his name is still Tom but he's just not Uncle Tom anymore. The turkey we ate this year was named Tom, too.]

Someone needs to start a Pilgrim fan club. After all, what other persecuted minority has given us so many tasty food items in one tremendous holiday? True, there probably wasn't cheesecake, pumpkin pie, cranberry sauce or green bean casserole at the First Thanksgiving. But there was turkey, and probably a good solid helping of mashed potatoes/yams/you-name it. Someone should given Squanto a medal for helping form the one holiday of the year that families really reconnect with each other without the help of capitalism. (You could make an argument that people spend more money on Thanksgiving turkey than Fourth of July fireworks, but you can't eat gunpowder.)

My Thanksgiving was tremendous as usual. The family headed up to Salem to spend it with my aunt and uncle. We brought along my friend Ricky, who doesn't believe in updating his Web page in case you're curious. Rick needed a place to gorge on turkey and I needed more people my age, as the only person under 50 this year was my sister. All my cousins are in various states and countries, so for the first time in a while I didn't get to see my favorite cousin Ali.

There were a good baker's dozen worth of folk to chat with, and after dinner we all went around the table and shared a favorite memory, or quote or challenge of the previous year. Then it was time for a walk around the lake, where all of us got completely drenched and might as well have jumped in the lake to achieve the same result. Finally, we divided up into two teams and played Pictionary. It's not quite as good as Phictionary (my family's made-up version of the commercial game Balderdash,) but it is a great time.

I've locked myself in coffeeshops for the better part of two weeks, and will continue to do so until law school finals are complete on Dec. 9. It hasn't been all studying, though. Wednesday, Valerie drove up and we went to a West Coast Swing dance together in Portland. We had a fantastic evening together. I'm falling for this girl, in case it wasn't glaringly obvious. (My law school friends have been teasing me about this for weeks, as every time I get an e-mail from her I have a stupid grin on my face for the next hour.)

After the dance Wednesday, I told Val I had fallen in love with her, despite the guy side of me that likes to keep these things secret for as long as possible. She told me she loves me, which is perhaps the most wonderful thing I've heard in a long time. I know all of this might seem sudden, seeing as we've only been dating several weeks, and it is sudden, really. But this is a friendship that's been building on itself since July. In fact, I've known her for six years, though I'm not sure whether you can really count that when you know someone at an acquaintance level. At any rate, I'm entirely not accustomed to falling head over heels for a girl whom I respect and admire. It's definitely a feeling I'm enjoying, though.