all of us did manage to fit around that table, farmhouse lamp like a hurricane lamp hanging over the table, knees knocking underneath. i brought homemade cloth napkins, the ones from our wedding, w/ little fabric tags pinned on. folks used permanent markers to decorate their tag and keep the napkin for the weekend. someone made a giant pan full of enchilada with the leftovers in the fridge. a guy from portland (go figure) made bread w/ bicycle shapes carved into the loaf. delicious bread. i made note of the carving.
i’m not sure my mother’s ever had my challah. it’s worth asking, i suppose. she’s not been out here for thanksgiving. i don’t know how she’d handle it frankly – all the people and chaos. funny – in reading that back to myself, it’s me that wouldn’t handle it. my mother would be fine. talking. talking. talking more to everyone and everything about the same stories again and again. this last time it was about her seatmate the striking dancer who was not just any professional dancer, but exceptional and unique in her person and reputation. director of her own dance troupe, and formed out of “The Lines” ballet, a group here in SF. she even wanted to contact this perfect stranger and ask her over for tea. seriously. i have this picture in my head of an extraordinarily patient seatmate. one can only hope (wish?) she feels the same way about mom.
but no, mom would definitely not appreciate the joint being passed around after dinner. nor, in all likelihood, the chaos of the dogs and unkempt manner they are in the middle of things just like humans. this group, including myself is so different with their dogs than we were w/ scoochie or scruffy growing up. dogs were to be tied outside on long runs and fed once or twice a day. i have memories of my friends’ dog tookie – a giant husky that lived outside. i did feel vaguely badly for him. that he only wagged his tail over his girls once a day, the rest of the time watching us from the solitary vantage point in the corner of the huge back yard.
our dog is not quite so lonely. and mom admires the way we have trained kala – she marvels at how well she listens and waxes poetic about her obedience. it’s not amazing to me at all. we worked very hard with her – like it’s an accident she comes when we call or sits when we ask her to and doesn’t crowd her food bowl but waits for our signal “that’ll do”. it’s not amazing, it’s just a reflection of effort. hm there’s something in that – the effort you put into life, mom. it’s all in the effort.