The turkey has been, and is being, consumed; the sales have been shopped (and found wanting); the games have been played; the holiday season is upon us.

It seems to be the Season of the Belly.

From piling food up on a plate, balancing precariously to the table so as not to let opposing flavors collide . . .

To thinking of cookies and candies and goodies that we make only once a year because they taste so good but are so much work (and oh, the powdered sugar) . . .

From belly laughs that come from getting yet another.stupid.and.obscure.baseball.question for the Writing/Lit/History/Religion major while playing Trivial Pursuit . . .

To groaning loudly in unison as the Tower of Goo .  . . carefully . . .. leans . . . one . … way . . . . and . . . . another . . . and . . . . tips . . . over after lots of carefully planned strategery . . ..

From belly giggles at remembering the poor swim instructor that probably still has two bare patches on his chest from where a certain six-year-old shared his thoughts on going into the swimming pool . . .

To squirmy feelings of “did I really act that way as a kid?” at remembering stories as only family members can remind you of (ugh:  adolescence) . . .

From being blessed at being so full . . . .

To wondering how this abundance should spill out to others . . . .

It seems like it’s a Belly Season.

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