*published November 23, 2006
When I was young, Thanksgiving was always hosted at my grandparents’ house. Grandma spent a week cooking so we could invade her home like locusts, fight over who sat where, and eat until our stomachs hurt. And as soon as the pain lessened, we’d eat some more. For years, my Thanksgiving was planned and life was good.
Now that I’m an adult with my own family, Thanksgiving has become more ambiguous. My grandparents passed away long ago, and my family is two thousand miles from us, so that tradition is out of our reach. Dale’s family does not have a big Thanksgiving meal; everyone is scattered and Dale’s mom usually spends most of the day in church.
One year we tried to gather everyone together for Thanksgiving, but something got lost in the translation and they all showed up two hours late. It was quite a battle for me to keep everything warm while we waited. At one point, I walked into the kitchen to find our cat straddling the turkey and gnawing on the breast.
After that, we decided to find something else to do.
For several years now, we have teamed up with our friends, the Derbys, who are also alone on Thanksgiving, switching houses every year. This works pretty well, except that we usually can’t remember who hosted dinner last year, and no one calls anyone until the last minute.
This year, I have the added problem of my plumbing fiasco cleanup. Until I get my new flooring in the bedroom, there are shoes and bags and boxes in the living room. It’s not a décor that I want to show off to company, so it’s hard to feel relaxed or thankful.
I found an article on the Internet about how to have a stress-free Thanksgiving. It was written by Martha Stewart, who certainly should know something about stress. There were some really good ideas – for women who are just like Martha. I’m not sure about the rest of us.
For example, four days before Thanksgiving, she suggests putting the frozen turkey in the refrigerator to thaw slowly. Sounds good, but she left out the step where I have to remove all of the leftovers that are now science experiments in order to fit the turkey into the fridge.
She also recommends making the pie crusts on that fourth day and freezing them. Hasn’t that woman ever heard of Marie Callender’s?
Two days before the event, Martha wants to get out the china and flatware, and iron the napkins. I tried that once, but the paper sticks to the iron.
She even has a Thanksgiving Day schedule to get you from kitchen to table in eight hours. Unfortunately, it doesn’t have an entry for airing out the house when you’ve burned the gravy, or running to the store because your son ate all of the olives.
I guess I should just relax and enjoy the holiday. After all, I know I will be eating turkey somewhere, whether it’s just with Dale and Marcus, or with an extended group of friends. And even if I am stressed, I can still find something to be thankful for, especially Marie’s pies.