Gobbled

Well, I am more than a little proud of myself. Want to know the secret to the best Thanksgiving day? Mimosas. Serve ’em when you’ve got an hour before the meal, and keep everyone pretty sauced through the Trivial Pursuit game.

It’s pretty late, Thanksgiving night, and today I cooked my first Thanksgiving dinner. My mother, my sister, and one of my oldest friends shared my afternoon with me, and it was a really nice time.

I got up at the crack of dawn to start cooking. I made pumpkin pie and pumpkin bread pudding (the real winner of the day — T, you missed out on the good dessert). Then the cookies. Then the turkey while I made deviled eggs. At first I accidentally soft-boiled them, but they were fine with a little more cooking. I’m so Martha!

Then my sister and I went for a hike, to mentally prepare ourselves for all the chomping. You know the only other people out on a day like today? People with dogs and people really excited about exercising. But we made it, and ate guilt-free for the rest of the day.

And there was much eating. And cleaning. Every dish in my house was washed, twice. I made mashed potatoes. The salad was mostly untouched, as were the asparagus that I totally forgot after I steamed them. All will be eaten tomorrow. And then this really funny thing happened when I thought I had put the zzzzzzzzzzzzz…..

But in any event, I was pretty proud of myself for cooking so much and getting it all on the table by two. My mom did the gravy, though, as I seem to have a complete lack of skills in that area.

I’ve got nothing funny to report. I’m just bragging about my kitchen wizardry. And thankful that my family could be with me on Thanksgiving. Oh, and I’m thankful that it’s like, eighty degrees outside.

It’s getting late enough now that it’s time for the real reason we cook all of this food all day: the late night turkey sandwich. Mmm.

Thanksgiving was my father’s favorite holiday, and since I knew he’d be missed, I wanted our Thanksgiving to be radically different from what it usually is. So, instead of our big table in Houston and the smells of my father’s cooking, we had my small table in Los Angeles, the weather sunny and warm, with different foods and different visitors, but still family and old friends. We toasted and thought of Dad, and hoped he got his dupa — his favorite part of the turkey.

Happy Thanksgiving, everybody. I just wanted to tell you how much I zzzzzzzzzz……

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