Happy Thangksiving

I thought about doing an all-new Thanksgiving post again this year, but in the end I decided against it. Not because I have nothing to say - like that will ever happen! -- but because there are thousands of bloggers who will be posting millions of words  today and tomorrow, and ultimately we're all probably going to write about the same themes.

You know: family and loved ones (those still here and those who have passed); memories of holidays back in the day; lists of things for which they are thankful; and the obligatory pictures of cooking, dinner tables, and the aftermath, the men sprawled on various couches in various states of turkey- and carb-induced torpor. Buzzfeed has some examples if you need a chuckle. Slate also chimes in on this.

Instead, I took another look at posts I had done for Thanksgivings past.

In 2013, I relived the story of Thanksgiving 1978, when I was an insecure college dropout traveling to my six-years-older-boyfriend's family gathering, something for which I was hopelessly ill-equipped, but which didn't kill me. And you know what they say about things that don't kill you: they make you stronger. And more appreciative of things. Here's an excerpt:

I remember being dropped at the bus station, and wondering if I was doing the right thing, not being home for Thanksgiving. I remember getting a small floral arrangement, a peace offering for his mother, And holding it on the bus from Syracuse to Jersey, trying hard not to spill it (it spilled). And it seemed so puny once I handed it over to her.

Last year, the post was a little different; it fell nicely into my Wondering on Wednesday theme, which (note to self) I just noticed I haven't been keeping up to date. Rather than the nostalgic musings of the year before, this post was full of pressing questions, such as:

If a male turkey's name is Tom, what's the female's name?  

Nobody answered me on that, so if know the answer or you've got a good guess or a suggestion, drop me a comment.

This year, I'm not cooking Thanksgiving dinner -- for the first time in 20 year or so, maybe even 25 years. I'm struggling a little - it's just always been 'my holiday', if you know what I mean. The special platter, and the special candles, and special dishes, and the little $5 antique potato masher that my Sweet Baboo - my now husband - loves so much.

But it will be fine, and it will be fun, and we will make new memories, just as we would if I had been the one slaving in the kitchen for days. Hmm... maybe I have the theme for next year's post?

Happy Thanksgiving - safe travels, wonderful memories, and well wishes.