Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, and comes before Christmas Eve, which is my second favorite day of the year. When I was a kid, my dad’s side of the family would always get together. There was 20 of us, which required an extreme dining room table extension, or for all the cousins to be banished to eating at the kitchen table. The highlight for me was drinking sparkling cider and toasting my cousins. We thought we were really sophisticated. I recall wearing forest green velvet pants one year, so yes, I can say I was at the height of sophistication circa 1995 or so. Now I am just a sloppy simpleton.
My mom’s been hosting Thanksgiving for the past few years. Someday I will host my own Thanksgiving. It is not this year, and probably won’t be next year, or the year after that, it could possibly be the year after that, but that’s being really optimistic. Maybe by the time I’m 30 I’ll be ready.
Last year I am pretty sure I did not contribute to Thanksgiving in any way. In fact, I don’t even remember where I was (just took me a few minutes, I was in Connecticut and Earnest barfed tree bark underneath my cousin Julian’s chair at some point during the meal).
This year I’m making pie. Pumpkin pie, which is actually my favorite. There was a Thanksgiving in the mid 2000s where my senile grandmother came to the kitchen table in the middle of the night, where my cousins and I were drinking, and then proceeded to eat pumpkin pie with chopsticks. I mean, pumpkin pie is pretty gelatinous. Can you imagine eating that with chopsticks? I guess the consistency is not unlike soft tofu.
Anywho. This year, pumpkin pie. My mom’s hosting some of her students and TT, along with my immediate family, and AS will be in tow and is bringing carrot cake. CARROTS, we’re going to have all the orange vegetables covered.