I think the older I am, the more I've learned to appreciate the little things. It would be so typically New York or gay to start criticizing Chi-town, or the fam, or the usual stuff that happens with holidays. So-and-so gets drunk, Uncle Such and Such starts arguing, Cuz'n This and That eats everything. But, as Jilly from Philly sez, that's family. What can I do? Not much.
I feel lucky this year. There is plenty I don't have: I don't look like the guys at Musclehunks, I don't have that duplex loft in DUMBO, the book isn't done, my career isn't really in the exact trajectory I hoped. But I'm alive, I'm healthy, I have friends and family that love me. It could be worst.
I had a great time, sitting in my mom's old kitchen, snapping green beans, peeling potatoes, and helping prepare the holiday meal. Not the development deal at Miramax I wished I had, but something more tangible, more real, and more loving.