I Love Food

Can you believe it? It's the last day of November. The weeks simply flew. I can't tell you how thankful I am for all of you! It was fun getting to know all of you better. ; ) Well, here is the last Thanksgiving guest blogger: Heather Palmquist is a talented writer I met on Twitter several years ago. In fact, I will always associate a black panther, her avatar at the time, with her. She is also one of the rare Internet friends that I got to meet in person over coffee. (Is there any other way to meet a writerly type person?) Heather is a generous, loving woman with a wicked sense of humor, but I'll let you get to know her yourself.

I love food.

No, I don’t think you understand. I love food. Not only do I love to eat it, I love to shop for it, cook it and even talk about it. And for me, Thanksgiving has always been about just that. Food. Stuffing myself retarded on stuffing, mashed potatoes, rolls and pie. Sorry, mom and dad, but family’s just a side note when gravy’s involved.

So imagine my dismay at not being able to keep my Thanksgiving date with my best friend Pauline’s spread of ham, whipped sweet potatoes (nut-free since she nearly killed me last year when she “accidentally” forgot to mention the pecan topping which I’m quite allergic to), more awesome stuff that I blocked out of my mind since I missed out, and her pumpkin crème. Instead, I spent the day in the hospital with an IV full of potassium and some broth. Pauline was kind enough to hold off on making the pumpkin crème until Christmas.

I realize this doesn’t sound like it’s going anywhere near something to be thankful for, but not being able to eat anything other than liquids for the majority of November has actually taught me to be grateful.

I am thankful that my hunger is due to a medical issue and not lack of being able to get food.

Every time my stomach growls, I console myself with thoughts of the pizza or pasta or ham or mashed potatoes or woked asparagus that I am going to gorge myself on once I’m able to eat again. I am mentally planning the dishes I’m going to cook in my yet-to-be-used Crockpot my mom bought me when she was here several weeks ago. And I remind myself that there are people all over the world who do not know where their next meal is coming from, let alone able to remember their last meal. That last one especially now that I’m subsisting on a diet almost solely of Ensure—when did I skip middle age and head straight into SnowBirddom?—is really what keeps me in the land of giving thanks.

This holiday season, I ask that each of you remember what it’s like to be hungry (I’m sure we all have a Top Ramen stage somewhere in our lives) and give to your Community Food Bank. And please keep in mind those who have food allergies, so any canned goods that are gluten-free are especially needed.

As for me, I’m home and trying to stay out of the hospital. Although, come to think of it, at home I have no TV, no one comes and cleans my room for me and no one serves me breakfast, lunch and dinner in bed. Then again, lunch and dinner were consistently becoming pureed chicken in beef broth, so I guess giving up watching marathons of Storage Wars and American Hoggers is a fair trade.