Thanksgiving
It's always good to have more food and drink more wine than you ever thought yourself capable of for one night a year. If Thanksgiving represents typical American imperialistic excess...sign me the hell up. Turkey, cranberry sauce, stuffing, three different casseroles, mashed potatoes, salad, all kinds of dessert...ahhhh. Larson was predictably anxious about entertaining and having everything go smoothly, but it all went off without a hitch. Or so it looked like, anyway.
And of course I couldn't even get out of bed until 11AM.
And I have leftovers...a loaf of pumpkin bread and some of the baked potato casserole that I really enjoyed.
Speaking of which, the pumpkin bread has won its second convert. Jill proclaimed the night before that she didn't like pumpkin bread; I asked her just to try it, as a personal favor. So she did. (She ended up taking home half a loaf.) Freshman year, Susannah did the same.
Thankfully, we rememebered the baking powder this time, so it didn't end up coming out like carmelized pumpkin matzoh (bloody entertaining as that was).
It's not the same, of course. The family has always been together on Thanksgiving (well, just the four of us, and usually with my grandfather, aunt, and uncle as well, but that fluctuates) and this is the first time since my grandmother died that someone's noticeably absent. I'm glad I got to share the occasion with so many people who are important to me, but it's just not the same thing. No Sheltie making a ruckus. None of my Dad's strange dishes that when he says what they are you think "that's not quite right" but end up tasting delicious. No arguing with my mother for 90 minutes on the proper placement of the dessert spoon. None of my sister's antics. I love the group, and my best friends in it. But it's just not the same thing. At Dickinson there's the big huge dinner, so you share the occasion with both friends and family, each in their own turn. This time, I can't do that.
And my sister tells me that they spent much of dinner talking about me anyway...particularly the way I was when I was five. (Which is actually probably just a product of Betty, my babysitter, joining us.) So, in that case...I guess I'm not missing it all that much. To everyone who was at Larson's last night, everyone sitting at our table, and the mildly-bloated aftermath of watching "The Goonies" in Kaydi's room...thank you for an evening I won't forget.
And of course I couldn't even get out of bed until 11AM.
And I have leftovers...a loaf of pumpkin bread and some of the baked potato casserole that I really enjoyed.
Speaking of which, the pumpkin bread has won its second convert. Jill proclaimed the night before that she didn't like pumpkin bread; I asked her just to try it, as a personal favor. So she did. (She ended up taking home half a loaf.) Freshman year, Susannah did the same.
Thankfully, we rememebered the baking powder this time, so it didn't end up coming out like carmelized pumpkin matzoh (bloody entertaining as that was).
It's not the same, of course. The family has always been together on Thanksgiving (well, just the four of us, and usually with my grandfather, aunt, and uncle as well, but that fluctuates) and this is the first time since my grandmother died that someone's noticeably absent. I'm glad I got to share the occasion with so many people who are important to me, but it's just not the same thing. No Sheltie making a ruckus. None of my Dad's strange dishes that when he says what they are you think "that's not quite right" but end up tasting delicious. No arguing with my mother for 90 minutes on the proper placement of the dessert spoon. None of my sister's antics. I love the group, and my best friends in it. But it's just not the same thing. At Dickinson there's the big huge dinner, so you share the occasion with both friends and family, each in their own turn. This time, I can't do that.
And my sister tells me that they spent much of dinner talking about me anyway...particularly the way I was when I was five. (Which is actually probably just a product of Betty, my babysitter, joining us.) So, in that case...I guess I'm not missing it all that much. To everyone who was at Larson's last night, everyone sitting at our table, and the mildly-bloated aftermath of watching "The Goonies" in Kaydi's room...thank you for an evening I won't forget.