After an unexpected and lovely Thanksgiving with my brother and his family, Eric and I cuddled up on the couch to watch the first episode of the second season of "Californication." For those of you who don't know the show, you may be raising a questioning eyebrow. However, with all of the sex, drugs, and mid-life crisis-porsche-driving-leading-male-esque, I find surprising depth to the main character. Like Don Draper, he can bag anything wearing a skirt, but in contrast, he's tragically and hopelessly still in love with his "ex." The first season of the show was spent in a "sea of meaningless...," to quote Hank Moody.
At any rate, the show had a fabulous Great Gatsby theme running through it tonight. Reminding me how much I love that story and how much I miss teaching literature.
Digression aside, I am struck by how much beauty and depth the world actually contains. How similar people of completely different circumstances can be. How there are universal and mind-blowingly moving themes we all share. How there is so much beauty in the grittiness.
Which makes me think how grateful I am on this Thanksgiving night for the dirty clothes pile that seems to refill itself as soon as I empty the hamper. For the gook we have to scrub on the pan until we give into it never coming off. For the garden rosebush that is always threatening to take over its neighboring tree. For the community paper I end up recycling every day while it's still in the plastic. For the way I can never count on my baby's schedule. I never know his bedtime or waking time. For my husband's kooky charm that I often mistake for so many bad names I can't say here - only because I am usually tired and worn out by the time he gets home.
And for effortless conversations. For old friends who always seem new. For butterflies in summer. For kind strangers who let you cut in line. For in-laws whom I actually want to visit. For the desire to create. For the endless capacity to love more.
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