Thanksgiving

Not having to plan, prep, clean, host, and cook Thanksgiving dinner is such a treat. Every year, we go to my parents' for dinner, and every year, at least for the past 6 or so, I thank my lucky stars for an entire two weeks before the big day that I don't have to host. I host my share of holidays, and while I love doing it, it is a lot of work. It's nice to have those holidays when you just don't have to do a darn thing. My mom is a bit of a control freak when it comes to holiday dinners. I am usually good for a dip or maybe even a dessert (although pie is just not my thing), but this year I was able to wrangle two vegetables out of her, and it did not even involve me tackling her to the ground and ripping the bag of potatoes from her white-knuckled fist. And in the end my sister, either feeling like she wasn't pulling her weight with the dinner, or feeling left out of all the festivities of the day, took over the potato peeling and cutting--works for me!

The dinner was wonderful. Somehow everything always tastes better when you don't have to shop, prep and cook it yourself. After dinner and a bit of rubbing of our overstuffed bellies, we headed outdoors. My sister tortured my two nephews with a never-ending photo shoot to capture just the right shot for her Christmas cards, while my boys ran races from one end of the yard to the other. I even joined them in a lame attempt to burn off the 4800 calorie dinner I just ingested. When everyone tired, we headed inside for a friendly competition of A to Z Jr, a game where you have to think of a word in a certain category for each letter of the alphabet. My dad didn't actually play the game, he just stood over our shoulders shouting out answers, most of which contained the word Zebra (i.e. things that are red: zebra with a sunburn). Ha, that Dad is a funny guy. As an aside, my Dad has taken up juggling and the fashioning of animals from those long skinny balloons. Luckily, he has a pump to blow them up because if his brain is deprived of any more oxygen the results would be catastrophic.

To end the day, much to my husband's dismay, (and probably my sister's husbands, and my kids, and my sister's kids, and my dad, and my aunt, and anyone else who isn't tone deaf) my Mom got out the old karaoke microphone. There was a lot of singing, if you can call it that, going on in that little kitchen. The poor dogs in the neighborhood must have been in agony. A little Celine, some Irene Cara, an Eric Carmen hit (which by the way is not a very easy song to sing: "All by my se-e-elf, don't wanna be, all by my-y-y-self, any-moooooooore"). Oh yeah, good times. And for the record, I held the second best score, topped only by my 17 year old niece who has sung solos for huge audiences, has had voice lessons for the past 4 years, and could make it to the top ten in American Idol if she would only try out! I'm only pointing out my win because I know my sister reads this blog. Really, the only places I'm fit to sing are the shower when no one is home, and the car with the windows rolled up tight, the radio at full blast, and for the sake of the passengers, well, no passengers, at least not any that aren't deaf!

But isn't this what holidays are all about: good food, no stress, family, having fun, and happy memories. Cheers!