I don’t mind writing the truth about this year’s Thanksgiving: It was great. Half of my family was able to gather, and that meant lots of people sharing bedrooms and bathrooms, preparing large meals together, and playing with dogs and — my favorite — the little ones. The youngest has just turned 2, and she […]
By Annie Copps
Dec 02 2009
I don’t mind writing the truth about this year’s Thanksgiving: It was great. Half of my family was able to gather, and that meant lots of people sharing bedrooms and bathrooms, preparing large meals together, and playing with dogs and — my favorite — the little ones.
The youngest has just turned 2, and she kept us all entertained with her struggles pronouncing and learning new words, her inaccuracies getting the spoon (or fork) into the food and then into her mouth, and the way Brady (my parents’ favorite child — their dog) camped out beneath her highchair, hoping beyond hope that she’d drop (or throw) something really delicious. And she did.
But more of the truth includes the fact that by the time November 26 rolled around, I was “over” Thanksgiving already. Not the part about sitting at the table, or laughing with my family, or preparing the meal, but about eating it and talking about it.
For me, Thanksgiving started in late May (finalizing Yankee‘s story idea), continued through June (testing the recipes) and July (writing the piece) and August (prepping and photographing the it), and culminated during the month of November, when “T-day” mania was in full tilt.
From radio call-in shows and Internet videos to live television appearances and cooking classes, I was full of turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, butternut squash, and, of course, cranberries. It was fun, and I look forward to doing it again next year, but maybe we’ll think about a leg of lamb once Thanksgiving comes around in 2010. Nah…who am I kidding? I live for this holiday.