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Thanksgiving in the barrio in San Antonio

It's 57 degrees outside tonight. Hazy moon. I walked home from the HEB groceries. My neighborhood is perfectly quiet, people have cars here or they're watching TV at 10 pm. No one's out except someone walking a dog and the crazy lady only come out on weekends.

People were loading up at the HEB. Whipped cream. Cokes, Dr. Pepper, Big Red. Cases of beer. Sausage. Cheetos. Ham. It was packed, because the store is closed tomorrow.

Somehow I remember the dinner party last night where we talked about the original thirteen colonies, quick, can you name them?

Yes, Georgia was one of them.

The thirteen colonies question is one of the questions asked for the U.S. citizenship interview, along with the Pilgrim question.

My girlfriend said last night that in a roomful of Ph.D's, no one could name all the thirteen colonies.

I'm sorry, but Thanksgiving just doesn't seem real to me. i've been to Plymouth Rock, outside of Boston and to the Charles River on the 4th of July. Something happens there.

I really don't like turkey all that much, and don't want to eat so much food anyway. I've read that the pilgrim's feast was a rare occasion, and that modern Americans get to "feast" often, tha we're not starving anymore like those people did.

I am very thankful to be in San Antonio and to see Thanksgiving. Tomorrow, I'm making pasta and salmon. With jalapenos.

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