This was my first Thanksgiving meal of the year, celebrated earlier in the week to accommodate schedules. Friends invited me over to join their family and take in a whole lot of food that was high in the best kinds of calories.
Now I’m getting ready to head out the door on this, the actual Thanksgiving, pick up my mom, and head up to Dayton to visit some of her friends for the holiday meal.
I love how variable this day has become over the years, mixing folks, moving around and of course, all the different food.
And aside from all the greeting card schmaltz attached to such days, I really am thankful underneath my knitted brow and behind every click of the camera’s shutter.
For family and friends. Bending elbows and loosening belts after a good meal. Fires in the belly and those that keep the room toasty. Experiments and failures, successes and potential. Laughter. Forgiveness. The good tears that wipe away right quick. For growing and changing, honing and refining. Making life to be more full of the good stuff. And of course, dessert.
My friend’s have a insanely busy schedule and their youngest son didn’t get a proper birthday party. (Don’t fret, there was a celebration, but it was just amongst family.)
So when a free weekend finally emerged some months later, he wanted to have a shindig at Arcade Legacy in Cincinnati. And though I was a curmudgeon about the delay, who’s to deny a young lad a celebration. (And I can’t lie, I love videogames too.)
Wendy made the awesome cookies above (his favorite games are currently Pac-Man and Dig Dug). They not only looked good, they tasted really, really, good.
Anyway, the afternoon was a fun slice with lots of classic games, pinball, and even some Rock Band. So yeah, it wasn’t totally 8-bit, but it was good times.
This last photo is from Wendy. We’re attempting to figure out Pac-Man Party.
Folks sometimes wonder when meeting me, “Where do you live?”
They see glimpses of our studio, or snapshots from all over tarnation, and a big heaping of the midwest.
It gets confusing.
I live in Cincinnati. (In fact, I’ve been in Ohio my entire life.)
Moved to this joint a little over a year ago after living in Dayton for a piece.
It’s not perfect. The walls are too thin, neighbors too noisy, and drafts hard to stop. But I was drawn to the space and the light.
And though the calendar has flipped, there are still pictures to hang. I’ve only started to put away the haphazard stacks of things in the closets. Each attempt is an overwhelming exercise in “Do I really need this (thing)?”
I usually end up with a pile for the thrift store (which eventually gets there), and a pile for eBay or Craigslist (which gets shoved back in a corner for another day).