Gobble Gobble Gobble
I had a great Thanksgiving this year!
Wanna know why?
'Cause we didn't do anything!
The past six years, every Thanksgiving we would spend it with G.'s family. Either going to his mother's or his sister's or his neices for dinner, and last year the family came to our house.
I'm not knocking on family, especially G.'s family. They're great. They're my family, too, actually. It's just that Thanksgiving can be such a hassle.
If you're hosting T-giving at your place, there's all that food you have to cook. Even if everyone brings side dishes, you still gotta bake the turkey, provide the gravy, cranberry sauce and everything else that goes with it. And who only bakes a turkey and nothing else and expects the guests to bring the rest? Nobody does that.
Thennnn. . . you gotta make sure the house is clean and festive. Can't have guests come over and the house isn't spotless.
And . . . oh, there's alot that goes into it. If you've ever done Turkey Day at your house, you know what I'm talking about.
Then there's the flip side of going to Thanksgiving.
Admittedly, this is a better deal. You might have to bring a side dish or something, but you could always buy a Mrs. Smith's pie and grab a bottle of Arbor Mist and you're good to go.
You also have the added benefit of being able to leave right after you set your dessert fork down. ("Gosh, dinner was great! I'm stuffed! Well, thanks! We'll be seein' ya!") Except for one thing: unless you're incredibly rude or you're an ER surgeon on-call, nobody leaves right after dinner. It just isn't polite.
As a matter of fact, the trickiest part of going to Thanksgiving at someone else's place is knowing the perfect time to extricate yourself.
I was freed (thank the Gods that be) from all of that nonsense -- this year, at any rate.
G. and I discussed it and we both decided that we were going to do Thanksgiving with just us.
A party of two.
So that's just what we did.
Two Cornish game hens, a bottle of wine, G's (world famous) garlic mashed potatoes, some Stove Top stuffing, and green bean casserole (canned green beans, a can of cream of mushroom soup, and topped with deep-fried onions. It's easy, baby!)
We cooked, we ate (and ate too much. Happens every year.) and had a great time.
Then, all bloated from stuffing ouselves, we lay (laid?) on the bed together and watched Miracle on 34th St. (the original).
no muss, no fuss, no complications.
It was a good day.
Hope you had a good one too.