In Writing

Every year, my ex and I alternate who gets the kids on Thanksgiving. The one that doesn’t have them just celebrates Thanksgiving on Friday. This year, it was my turn to do Friday Thanksgiving, but my guests came on Thursday to stay for the weekend and I bought enough food to make feasts on both days. (It also occurred to me that this will be the last year that both of my kids are underage for the occasion and they’ll soon be old enough to choose where they go. To keep from making them decide¬†between their father and me, I think I may offer to permanently take on the Friday Thanksgiving role. I really kind of like it. It extends the merriment).

Anyway, although I was all set up to cook a big meal on Thursday and the turkey on Friday, Thursday I woke up deathly ill. Nothing contagious, just my ongoing stomach issues, which have been getting intermittently worse. I can be fine for a year, then get absolutely knocked down by a flare-up. (Side note: traveling often wears me down to the point where this happens. So it probably didn’t help that I was gone 3 weeks out of 4 in November).

Luckily, my guests were awesome and picked up a lot of the slack while I took it easy. Then, when Friday rolled around and the kids came home and I was still not up to wrangling the big bird, someone suggested we cater the event with food from our favorite local food from Spain instead. (Well, the food is actually from Palisades¬†Park, New Jersey, but the cuisine is Spaniard). It didn’t get much better than paella and chorizo for the holidays, although it was a bit unconventional. Then it was on to a rollicking game of Cards Against Humanity, which is fast becoming a Thanksgiving weekend tradition. Somehow, my mom always manages to win.

Finally, yesterday, now mostly recovered (though still a smidge worn down), I decided to toss the bird in the oven. I am a terrible cook but I make a great turkey. I wondered if the Thanksgiving fairies would still grant me my one yearly reprieve against the cooking curse even though it wasn’t technically Thanksgiving anymore. They did! I slow roasted it throughout the day, filling the house with a wonderful aroma. At night, it wasn’t my Thanksgiving full house, but there were still plenty of enthusiastic takers. Yum! Although, at this rate, we’ll still be eating turkey well int0 2017.

Just another reason to keep remembering why we’re grateful. So many blessings! We’ll remember this as the year of endless Thanksgiving.









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