Giving Thanks

I had several glasses of wine with my Thanksgiving dinner yesterday. I don't know if it was that I was so relaxed for once, among friends who are like family, or the fact that the guy I'm dating was there to meet the friends and stumbled through an explanation of how we know one another. . . we're. . . um. . .er. . .dating. It was better than I had done; I called us friends.

But when Jodi and I waited in line for a movie later, it was clear that the wine was still with me.

"EXCUSE ME! SOMEONE DROPPED A GLOVE," I shouted to a line of twenty people in front of us as we awaited our turn to purchase tickets.

"Yeah," Jodi whispered like a parent trying to quiet a child, "that's mine. Thanks."

"Oh." I whispered back. Then, "NEVER MIND!" I announced to the crowd because, I felt, they needed to know that the glove had been saved.

Luckily, the Milk Duds soaked up the rest of the alcohol and Jodi could enjoy Joaquin and Reese in silence. I never told her, though, that while she watched previews and I went out to get a treat, I chided the teenage sales people just short of asking for the manager because they didn't have Junior Mints. They duly noted my dissatisfaction and rolled their eyes, I'm sure.

I admit that when I imbibe a little alcohol I let myself say and do things that I wouldn't normally say or do. And because this happens so rarely, I am thankful for two things this year: wine and a friend who puts up with me when I drink it.