Are you conventional?
A while back I was up at some friends’ cabin in the Sierra and I professed to have led an unconventional life having grown up in hotels in many countries to a father with gypsy in his blood and a mother who was willing to suspend her disbelief. But my friend relieved me of own fantasy and reminded me that I was married and middle class and there was little about me the resembled the unconventional. What could I say?
In the same stroke of friendly patter, most people who knew my mother called her a free spirit and me by association, a wild child. Tsk tsk, I said to all that, I am and was never as wild as I thought I might be given the responsibility that always befell me.
So this Thanksgiving when we decided to do nothing at first, me still in mourning over my mother and this being the first anniversary of her death, and then realizing this was Tin’s first Thanksgiving here with us, a change of heart, and suddenly zowie – 17 adults and 3 kids later – we are having turkey day here at the LaLa, only it’s not turkey and the fixings, it’s Greek and I mean Greek cuisine.
So at lunch when my friend said she was going to make some turkey, sweet potatoes, and some stuffing and invited me to steal away later in the day and have it afterward, I looked at her like she was crazy – I chose Greek! But I could tell my friend was willing to play along with this charade, but in reality she would have chosen turkey.
Does that make me unconventional. Most likely not, last I looked and chalked up my experiences – I seemed more like a cliché than a bohemian.