A week half spent

I am far too rapidly approaching that 50% spent mark on my week off. I have completely relished nearly five days of wearing comfortable clothes, applying no make-up and pulling my hair back into a ponytail.

I was unprepared for my trip by the grocery store this morning to pick up a few remaining items for our feast tomorrow (namely the turkey, a 16 lbs beast, the smallest I could find). I found more people I work with at the grocery store than I normally see on a day of work. They were obviously unprepared for seeing everyone else as well since I saw loads of sweatpants. I grabbed my few things and ran home to enjoy my last day of solitude at home.

The weekend was good, Leif loved swimming. Monday he went into school, I ran home and got busy cleaning out the guest room, cutting out fabric for the new baby's quilt and making a few Thankgiving dishes that could be prepared substantially ahead of time. Now if I can just keep AB's fingers out of the Zinfandel Cranberry Sauce I won't have to wonder if I need to make a second batch.

Tuesday I kept Leif at home with grand plans to walk he and the dog down to Starbucks and enjoy a warm drink with my son in the shop. The drizzly fog kept us from enjoying this trip and instead we watched Sesame Street and got a jump on our clay ornament making. We went to go meet AB for lunch at noon. We never made it since Leif fell asleep in the car. I turned the car around and took advantage of his timing by transferring him into his bed and enjoying the three hour naptime to work on getting more done around the house.

I took Leif into school again today so that he could enjoy their Thanksgiving party and I could pick up my messy house and cook. So far I have turkey stock on the stovetop, a pumpkin pie in the oven and my ingredients for cinnamon rolls pulled out onto the counter. I need to make my bean dip and the dressing and I will be in good shape for tomorrow.

Have I said yet that I love Thanksgiving? I really do. I love cooking the feast, I love drinking the warm Wassail (yes, I know it is a Christmas drink, but I enjoy it at Thanksgiving too). I love watching the Macy's Thanksgiving day parade (even though AB sits there rolling his eyes sure that he is missing some great football game). And I love reminiscing into the past...

Starting the day out watching the parade on TV, anticipating the arrival of Santa Claus at the end. Because that meant that Christmas was *officially* on the way.

Or like the first Thanksgiving I ever remember helping my mom cook. Me in my little apron, in our little house on Jim Bridger Street and feeling so important in helping her with this feast. It was snowing out, a lot. One of the boys from my class came to see if I wanted to go sledding. I declined in favor of staying inside to help cook. A sign of years to come.

Or preparing our first Thanksgiving ever in Reno with our friends from San Francisco lounging around the apartment while I pondered when in the world that little pop up timer on the turkey was actually going to pop. (For the record, I have *never* seen one pop.) We ate about 7:30pm that night.

We have come a long way in our Thanksgiving meals. Some things remain constant over the past few years. Our gravy usually has problems, despite the fact that any other day of the year I can make a stellar gravy. My cream of wild mushroom soup remains the thing I really just would rather eat as a main course despite that wonderfully cooked turkey that belongs on the pages of Bon Appetit. (I am not a big fan of turkey.) AB is in charge of the turkey and always grills/smokes it. And pumpkin pie, homemade. And family and friends. What could be better?