Ort

Last night we celebrated Practice Thanksgiving, a tradition we've had for the past five years in which our friends get together to give thanks and share a meal.  It is always fun, but I think it's become more fun over the years for me. 

I do look forward to "Regular Thanksgiving" because it's a special meal with family, but our friends are so nice and so happy and so much fun to be around that I think I may look forward to Practice Thanksgiving just as much.

My husband made a turkey and some gravy, but the rest of the meal was brought by our friends.  And you know how I feel about eating dishes other people make.  I love it.  So much good food.  Fun friends, wine, oh, and desserts.  This year was the year of desserts.  We had a big selection of desserts and I tried every single one. 

As people were chatting after dinner or watching the game on TV, we started cleaning up.  We had lots of help, it's always so nice that people jump right in and help.  Did I mention how cool our friends are?

As we cleaned up I kept thinking about how much ort there was.  So much ort.  Ort is one of those words you don't hear often and use even more rarely.  It was a word I came across one time and it stuck with me.  Ort is anything remaining on your plate.  That last bit of mashed potatoes, the chicken bone, the garnish on the salad.  It's any remaining food item from a meal.

We all ate heartily, but the variety of food at a meal this big, the number of desserts, not to mention the turkey carcass and there was just ort her and there and everywhere.  And it seemed to all be greasy.  I don't like greasy. 

The nice thing was we were all still chatting and having a good time while we were cleaning up.  It's one of those nights you're sad is over.  

The Big Boy Update:  Gravity check.  He got a balloon at a birthday party on Saturday.  He let it go and it floated to the ceiling.  We retrieved it for him and in short order he released it again.  My husband and I were doing other things when I heard a clunk sound.  Then I heard a clatter sound.  My husband and I both arrived on the scene at the same time, but I'd managed to catch a glimpse of what he was doing.  My husband was about to have a talk to him about throwing things in the house when I stopped him and said, "He's not throwing, he's testing gravity.  He is throwing things up, to see if they'll float up to meet the balloon."

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  Social Butterfly.  At Practice Thanksgiving, my daughter decided she wanted to mingle.  She happily walked around from room to room, person to person, checking out all the guests.  People would pick her up, talk with her and sit her on their lap.  In a while, they'd put her down and she'd be on her way again to make sure the next room was having a good time as well.  Next year maybe we'll have her serving canapes on a tray.

Fitness Update:  Today was our first day of P90X.  We're suppose to do something like five days a week and the program lasts ninety days. Then you're totally ripped.  Or is it "totally cut?"  Whatever the phrase is that means you have serious muscles in places other people have blubber, that's what we'd have.  But we still like to run.  So it might take us several years to get through P90X.  Also, pushups?  The workout was doable and reasonable, aside from all the pushup-type exercises.  I am a pushup failure, always have been.

Someone Once Said:  When any government, or any church for that matter, undertakes to say to its subjects, This you may not read, this you must not see, this you are forbidden to know, the end result is tyranny and oppression no matter how holy the motives.