Screw Halloween... on to Thanksgiving!

Phew... Glad that's over with. It's fun to dress up and all, and the kids had a great time - L roared at everyone and when she did she usually got this response:
"Oh! A lion! How scary. Here... have some more candy."
Ok, fine. More for me to raid! Wa-ha-ha-ha!

So now, on to my favorite holiday... Thanksgiving. Shhhhhh... I've already indulged in the secret first playing of Alice's Restaurant.

I've hosted Thanksgiving in one form or another for, oh my... this will be my 11th year. It all started when we were renovating our old house and found a hole in the wall between the kitchen and dining room. I'm sure it had been an exterior window that was removed and walled in when the back part of the house was put on. But my dear Grandfather commented, "That would make a great pass-through for the Thanksgiving turkey." I think he was ready to pass on the carving knife, so to speak, as we'd been going to dinner at their house for as long as I can remember.

So, fall of 1995 we put the finishing touches on the house. I believe B put down the last of the wood floor in the tiny guest room that would become C's nursery the day before Thanksgiving. (renovation stories are another post!) I pulled out the previous year's Thanksgiving issue of Martha Stewart Living (yeah, so? Ok... I like her. Deal with it.) and found her method of preparing a turkey. It involves a lot of melted butter, wine and cheesecloth. The wine goes in the butter, you soak the cheesecloth in it then drape it over the bird, basting every half hour with the rest.

We averaged 20 people for dinner in our little historic row home - around the big table, and then a second table in the living room. We moved in 2001 - our last really good dinner. We hosted around boxes, and the day after TGing, we took the table apart and moved it to our new house. "My" side of the family hasn't been up for Thanksgiving since. (sniff, sniff... it's 80 miles farther...) B's side always has other people to go to, so we're last. They barely eat. It kinda pisses me off... but now with B's job and new shift, he'll be working on TGing day. We'll have a dinner on Sunday. We did it last year, and people were actually hungry, but it's sort of sad for me. I shouldn't bitch, but hey... I feel like whining about it. I wanna cook it on TGing day. I want people to come to me first. Whine, bitch, moan... Ok. I'll stop. I have to go put clothes in the dryer anyway.