I love Thanksgiving. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I love Thanksgiving. A day devoted to enjoying and appreciating the bounty provided to us strikes me as an excellent idea. Taking time out to share our best fortune with others feels wonderful. Oh, and pies are never a bad thing.
That said, I’ve had a couple truly scaly Thanksgivings over the past few years. Mostly they have been caused by the fact that I don’t have a dining room, so I can’t invite more than two people to share Thanksgiving with us…which would make it kind of pointless to roast an entire turkey and make a huge feast. So Mr.Twistie and I have had Thanksgiving with other people for years. Seeing as I love to cook and love to feed people, this has been a tidge on the depressing side for me.
Of course, it doesn’t help that two years ago I did all the cooking, transported the feast across town with the aid of a very sulky Mr. Twistie, and then was met by the spectacle of the owner of the house gagging at the sight of each new dish as it was uncovered, as well as his snide comments on the inedible qualities of my stuffing as he fed it to his dog at the table. Mind you, that’s the same stuffing I’ve been making for the past six years because this guy and Mr. Twistie both raved about it the first time I did it.
That was very nearly the end of Thanksgiving for me.
The same folks have asked me to cook Thanksgiving for them both years since The Incident. I don’t think they understand why I will never do it again.
So for the past two Thanksgivings, I’ve gone to dinner with other folk bringing pumpkin pie with me. It’s okay, but it’s not the way I want to celebrate the holiday.
This year, though, except for the fact that all I got to cook was pie and I had no leftover turkey the next day, was a really nice Thanksgiving that I certainly wouldn’t mind repeating.
We ate with different friends this year. The food was good and it was bountiful. My pie was praised to the skies. Nearly everyone around the table was a musician, so the evening ended in a big jam session. The only person who had too much to drink was a gregarious, cheerful drunk whose worst sin was constant repitition of the same lines and a tendancy to fawn on Mr. Twistie for his musical abilities. I can live with that.
Best of all, there wasn’t one word of body hate all day and all night. Nobody simpered about how ‘bad’ they were for having an extra helping of mashed potatoes or a sliver of pie. Nobody excused themselves for eating a full meal by talking about how much they planned to exercise the next day to ‘make up for it.’ Nobody looked squiggle-eyed at anyone for daring to have some gravy while wearing a double-digit dress size. The one person at the table who has been dieting not only took the day off and left others to make their own decisions, she made the cornbread dressing (Mr. Twistie later said that and my pumpkin pie were the two best things on the table, which made me preen a bit) and ate heartily of it.
So, good friends, new friends, good food, live music, and no anti-body talk. About the only thing that could improve on it is if next year I get to make a little more of the food. Maybe I’ll offer up another veggie dish.
How about those of you who celebrate Thanksgiving? Did you have a good one? What did you do to make it a truly happy day? What would be your perfect Thanksgiving? Or, alternately, what was the worst one you ever survived? And can you laugh about it now?