Hi Ginger and thank you for having me on your blog today.
Thanksgiving is upon us, a time to give thanks. It’s easy to get caught up in
the holiday madness and forget what the holiday represents. Did you start
planning the menu for the perfect meal? What are you waiting for? The clock is
ticking.
Time to rush off to the market, buy the plumpest turkey to
please Grandma, Aunt Tillie, that dear but hard to please mother-in-law, the
hubby, kids, grand kids and everyone in between. Butterball or Honeysuckle? Fresh
or frozen? How many pounds? Why oh why can’t I remember who likes mashed
potatoes and who hates sweet potatoes? Will the strawberry jello set this year
or melt into the green bean casserole and form a jaundice ball of something inedible?
Oh dear, what kind of cranberry sauce was it that refused to roll out of the
can, the one I swore I’d never buy again if my life depended on it? What would
my guests think if I put them through that fiasco again. By time Uncle Chuck
finally whittled it out with a sledge hammer, it lost its appeal. Pumpkin or apple pie? What exactly is
minced meat pie? Does anyone really know?
Don’t get your feathers in a ruffle. No matter how much
fretting goes into the preparation of the Thanksgiving meal, the best laid
plans…
When the holiday madness gets to me, I always think of my
cousin’s ‘Perfect Thanksgiving’ when she lived in California. It was a warm
sunny day, the amber leaves of autumn rustling with every gentle breeze. The
family was gathered around the beautifully set table, the wine was poured in
the best goblets, the twelve-pound turkey
was baked to a crisp golden brown, and all the trimmings were as
picture-perfect as the rest of the holiday setting.. The family had just joined
hands to give thanks for the mouth-watering meal when a loud buzzing broke into
their revelry. The man next door was having his tree cut down. Annoyed but determined not to let the
loud hissing ruin the perfect holiday, once again, they joined hands. Once
more, the prayer of thanks was drown out. The third time was not a charm. The
tree crashed through the dining room window, splitting the table in half, smashing
the turkey and all the trimmings to smithereens.
Fortunately, no one was hurt. Much later over pizza and
beer, they gave thanks and counted their many blessings. Isn’t that what it’s
all about? Don’t get your feathers in a ruffle. It’s not about the brand or
size of the turkey, it’s not about the jello or cranberry sauce or pie. It’s
about family and giving thanks. Take time to count your many blessings and
appreciate the loved ones at your table. Happy Thanksgiving!
Sharon Donovan lives in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania with her
family. Prior to the loss of her vision, she was a legal secretary for the
Court of Common Pleas where she prepared cases for judges in Domestic
Relations. Painting was her passion. When she could no longer paint, she began
attending creative writing classes and memoir workshops. After a long and
winding road, a new dream arose. Today, instead of painting her pictures on
canvas, Sharon paints her pictures with words.
Sharon writes stories of inspiration and suspense. She has
certificates in business and medical transcription. Echo of a Raven, a
narrative non-fiction about her struggles with diabetic retinopathy, received a
CTRR award for outstanding writing, and The Claddagh Ring is a 2009 CAPA
nominee for best inspirational of the year. Mask of the Betrayer was voted book
of the week at LASR and its video by Triad Productions was a second place
winner at You Gotta Read. Other books by Sharon Donovan are Touched by an
Angel, Lasting Love, Her Biggest Fan and Charade of Hearts. You can visit
Sharon at
or write to her at:
