I am thankful to be at my home for Thanksgiving.  Yes, it is nice to see family and to be with family, but to be in my own home with no football on the TV is a small thing.  In the vast timelines of the Universe, the watching of football games have had no bearing on my life, but so many Thanksgivings have been so very boring due to the TV watching limitations.  Of course, now Sam and I will have to decide what to watch!  Will it be Buffy?  Will it be Star Trek?  Who knows!

A post on Facebook has me thinking, a post by my friend T – he says its disingenuous to be a Thanksgiving Scrooge, and I agree with him.  It is what it says on the tin – a day of Thanksgiving.  I’d love it to be removed from buckled hats and headdresses.  It’s one in a long line of pre-Winter celebrations, the success of the harvest.  We’ve harvested some in our garden, but not enough for winter – so we give thanks for the bounty of the world we live in.

There’s enough to go round, if only we could figure it out.

So, I spend this weekend in contemplation, in transit, on a tree farm, in a dentist’s chair, ignoring the nagging in the back of my head.  Baking, as well.  I love to cook.

We are cooking the turkey from Milk Street this year, which will be strange as I’ve never basted in my life.  What will come of this experiment?  Well, I am hopeful.  And there will be green beans and mashed potatoes – we don’t stretch too far come Thanksgiving.  At the family Christmas on Friday we are eating walking tacos and celebrating companionship.  Grandpa has hit the big 9-9 as well, which is a huge cause to celebrate, though he seems so tired.  He seems happier most of the time.


I don’t know who will visit tomorrow, but I do know a few.  It’s not something I’m overly concerned about, except that people need to stay out of the kitchen.  The eternal struggle – our kitchen is too small.  It is okay, but too small for people who love to can and make and bake.  The kids, too.

Also on Thanksgiving comes Sam’s birthday.  In the interest of decorum, the age remains silent, but youthfulness is still part of the equation.  We are young, yet, and I hope soon to find the final stop on our journey.  We like our house – but we do not enjoy the city.  To move from the city would be a grand event, indeed.

I would have my yelling kids dressed up and kicked out more often.  That’s one allowance I might change.  Because they are not yelling in anger, but in play – and play belongs in the backyard.  Soon they will have to wash their hands so we can bake Sam’s cake.  It will contain strawberries and love, because love is a secret ingredient.

Dad will be here, my sister may be here in a surprise twist of events.  I am excited to roast a turkey and to cook so many dishes the way I like them.  Oh yes.  Thanksgiving is partially about greed, too, so I am being greedy and making food the way I want to.

(Note – in deference to my students, I am trying to not use the same “Dead words” they are not allowed to use in class:  Thing, cool, fun, stuff.  I don’t know that I’m doing as well as I’d like, but they are on top of me like crazy in the classroom!

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s