Somehow, it is Thanksgiving time again. I feel like I have barely had time to digest last year's bird and here we are again, ready to fill our gullets with more delicious food with those we love. Not such a bad gig, I guess.
I try desperately to block out the sensationalized holiday hubbub and maintain my focus on the true importance of what surrounds me but it's difficult when you are being cocooned in garland and left bleeding myrrh upon entering every store. I just came for bagels.
In the whirlwind of preparing to cook Thanksgiving dinner for 13 members of my highly diverse family tree, I decided to tap into my own bag of innards and consult with my heart. The irony is almost too poetic. While there are many aspects of my life that I lead with my heart, there are twice as many occasions when I keep it tightly bound like a bag of giblets, protecting it from harm. It's my precious little secret, hidden from the world of carnivores.
The moral of this story? Don't forget to remove the bag of giblets before you cook your turkey. Or...for you sentimentalists...remember that a heart unused is nothing more than a flavorless stew. ;-)
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