Thanksgiving has traditionally been my favorite holiday. I like it because it's supposed to be about fellowship and love. Not about giving or receiving gifts. It's also not particularly religious, which lately is an added bonus.

Usually, it's the holiday I like to spend with my family. Often not on the actual day of Thanksgiving, but usually on one of the weekends near it. This year, however, I wasn't invited to my parents' to celebrate. I recently found out that this is because my parents aren't formally celebrating. They're going to serve food to the local homeless people. I think that's great! Though, it is sad not to spend some time with them and eat some of my mother's wonderful home-raised turkey. And all the other great food she prepares.

Two years ago when I went back for Thanksgiving, I had just come out to my parents as queer. I was worried about their reactions. But my parents often do a maddening silence bit before a discussion. So for the first two days I was home, they acted as though nothing were different. I was freaking out inside and became very drunk before and during dinner. It was not the best year.

This year, I was slated to have dinner with some grand friends of mine. I made some chocolate chip whiskey pecan pies. However, my friend is now in the hospital and Thanksgiving with them is postponed. She'll be fine, I'm assured, but it does leave me a bit adrift this holiday.

I wish I was spending this holiday with my boyfriend, but he is with his family. I was told I could go with him, but I would have to be careful about everything. I didn't want to worry about whether or not I'd inadvertently make his parents angry at him.

I've been invited to accompany my roommate and some friends, but I do not know the host, though I do know many of the other attendees. I'm uncertain how I feel about being one of them.

It's very warm here today, around 70 degrees, and through my open window I can smell various neighbors cooking deliciousness.

This ends my Thanksgiving ramblings.