Beau on his bed, contemplating on the holiday. Photo credit (c) Likeitiz.

Sigh! What a holiday it has been. So many people in my kitchen coming and going. Playing with dead animals and foliage. Mixing. Heating. Opening and closing the oven door. Churning some creamy stuff on a bright blue contraption. The kitchen smelled wonderful!

Them with their Motown Classics blaring all day on their speakers. Them dancing and singing along while they cut and chop, boil and blanch. Sip beer. Drink sangria. Woohoo! They’re getting down and dirty with all the food! I tried to do my own jig to follow them along but my butt is not so flexible. It’s made for leaping tall buildings in a single bound, I suppose.

They didn’t get to walk with me in spite of the sun and mild weather like they promised. I felt left out for a bit. Just a few pats here and there through the morning and well into the afternoon. Then more people came, dressed up and bearing presents of more food.  I could not fathom enough the ginormous amount and variety of platters, bowls, and trays that paraded out of my kitchen.

Through the evening, I sat on my mat and watched them hug and kiss, toast and give thanks, dine and wine, laugh and relate. Then I had my share of hugs, and pats, and more hugs!  It was a good end to a busy day.

Why do I feel tired this morning when I didn’t really do that much? Sympathetic exhaustion?