This was our little Thanksgiving dinner last year, when it was just the three of us. Time keeps whittling down my favorite holiday; this year it will be just me and my guy, and we likely won't even have a turkey.* That will be a first in 35 years.
I feel about Thanksgiving the way other people do about Christmas, and while it's a lot of work it's my favorite holiday. Of all the Thanksgivings I've had in the past sixty years, only three were truly terrible: one when I was a kid that I don't talk about (#1 most miserable); the time I roasted two turkeys together and hosted fifteen people whom I cooked for and served with zero help (the largest and #2 most miserable); and the one I spent in basic training (the #3 most miserable.) I have no pictures of any of those, thank heavens. In addition to doing all the cooking I'm the one who takes all the pictures, washes all the dishes and puts away all the leftovers. I suppose no one else cares because to them it's just a big, free meal.
My saddest Thanksgiving was one year when unhappy circumstances left me alone with nowhere to go. Rather than stay home and try to make a meal for one I accepted an invitation from a friend who felt sorry for me. I made a sweet potato casserole and an apple pie as my contribution to the meal, and shared an Italian-style Thanksgiving with her and her family. I was grateful to be included. I also came home after that dinner and cried until my eyes almost swelled shut.
Other, happier things I remember from past Thanksgivings: the first time Katherine's boyfriend tasted my roasted turkey, and the look on his face (among other things I use a basting sauce of my own invention that always makes the bird turn out awesome); the time I burned myself badly across the inner forearm while avoiding dropping a 20 lb. turkey as I took it out of the oven (I saved the bird and the day; still have the battle scar, too); the year I was eight months pregnant with Kat and exhausted while I was cooking, and my dad telling me it was the best turkey dinner he ever had (he probably lied, but I was so happy.)
In years to come I expect Thanksgiving will keep changing, and I'll have to go on adjusting to new variations of my favorite holiday. I hope I always cook something on this day for as long as I'm capable, because the meal has always been my way of saying I love you to my family. That's why I love it so much. That's why it will always be my favorite day of the year.
*My guy and I actually changed our minds and decided to have a turkey this year just for the two of us. So I'm much, much happier now.
5 comments:
Now you've piqued my curiosity on how bad something has to be to take the number one spot.
My only memorable Thanksgiving is the day Greg nearly severed a couple of fingers on his table saw (making a feeding stand for the dogs). I had the turkey in the oven and had just gotten out of the shower. He came up to me and said: We need to go to the ER. I asked him if he had all his fingers, I shut off the oven, and off we went.
Because he had bled through the towel holding his hand, the ER staff thought he had been gun shot! It took a while to calm them down.
Hours later I got him home. The turkey had continued cooking in the hot oven and turned out perfectly. I made him a plate and he stared at it with puppy dog eyes. His hand was so thickly bandaged he couldn't cut his food.
Since that day, he has never been allowed to run machinery on a holiday. Though in truth it was so quiet that day, it was the best day to go to an ER.
Glad you're getting your turkey!
Greg, poor guy (and poor you for having to deal with all that and cook.)
Can't talk about that worst Thanksgiving. You might have nightmares. I still do.
I've had good and bad Thanksgiving and Christmas holiday dinners. Probably the worst for me still was the year I buried my mother on Christmas Eve morning and then was pushed by my husband's relatives to go to their big family Christmas dinner on Christmas day and bring my dad. All I wanted to do was hide. I'm pretty sure my dad did too. My husband kept telling them that, so did his mom and dad but it started getting...insistent at the funeral service so I acquiesced to keep peace. It was miserable. I really think, in hindsight, for everyone because no one knew how to act or what to say to us.
Things have changed over the years. I cook Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve. I do a big turkey for Thanksgiving, I clean it all up myself, and I do a whole prime rib for Christmas Eve, again, I clean it all up myself. But hubs and I have a quiet day on Christmas that way, just the two of us. It's nice. Gives the girls a chance to go to their in-laws guilt free. I'm looking forward to the Thanksgivings where I'll just be cooking for hubs and me though. A little Butterball breast, some stuffing in a baking dish instead of inside the bird, a couple other sides for him, perfect!
We're all holiday-scarred, aren't we? I'm sorry you had to go through that. What were they thinking?
We're keeping our dinner very simple here. I have a 12 lb. Butterball (that I got for twelve bucks at Target) that I'll make with our favorite sides. For dessert I'm making cream puffs because they're light and low in sugar. If I'm feeling ambitious I might try to shape them into swans this year.
Well, I'm going to need to see those swans! :)
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