Since becoming an adult, dinner has been up for grabs at which house it will be at. Oh the days where all I had to do was show up with a plate and fork, eat, and then leave the scene. Now, there’s a slight possibility I’ll be hosting, and a super good chance I’ll be helping and/or cleaning it up. Forgive the scowl I might at times have on my face toward the little ones who inhale and flee.
This year I was asked to host the event at my house. And event is defined as thirty people attending, holding forks with mashed potato and gravy trances, and bellies growling so loudly that you’d think we lived near a train depot. Not a meal for ten, surely. But that’s what these feasts are for, right? I’m thankful to have a miniature fleet attending every year. Since when do we all get together at the same time and break bread? Once or twice a year to be exact. And there’s probably reasons for this. No, I’m just kidding. It’s fine we all eat together. Minus the children running and romping, it’s fun. Especially when my brother brings out the ol’gingerbread liquor concoction. Yum-o. And I don’t type that lightly. Double Yum-o. Isn’t it nice to have someone like something you make? You’d think, but when I’m asking for my fifth one…I get that look. I can’t help it. My taste buds look forward to it all year. The tiny bits of broken gingerbread, the lightly taupe colored elixir floating in the glass. I’m seeing tiny little gingerbread men dancing just thinking about it.
Anyway, over the years Thanksgiving has morphed into a couple different things. Of course it’s grown in number since I was young. Now everyone has someone and they have little someone’s, until it’s a line wrapped around the counter, where you’re hoping all the ham isn’t gone by the time you get there. And then there’s the couple of years that my sister made everyone go around the table and tell what we’re thankful for. Those were stressful. Yes it was a good idea; reflection is always a good thing. Thankfulness is always shined on well, but on the spot? And then to have everyone judge you for the one word you uttered? Obviously in order to play the game you had to be a philosopher.
The first year I could’ve sworn I broke out in a sweat. Thankful for? I don’t know. I didn’t want to sound lame and say family, or a warm house. Plus, everyone before me had already said something profound. I think that year I lowered my self underneath the table and crawled away. (I’m thankful for a bunch of stuff, I just don’t want to have it talked about and measured) The second year I was ready. I came rehearsed. My answer was also duplicated by the person sitting next to me. When it was my turn, I had nothing but to be thankful for the meal itself. Eye roll city! By the third year I told my mother to tell her not to do it anymore. It was making the children nervous:)
This year Thanksgiving was volleyed between my and my mother’s house. For a week solid it was thought to be at mine. I cleaned for hours, scrubbed my oven….then on the night before (last night to be exact) she called and said it would be at hers. I suppose that means Christmas is at mine. I have a few weeks till then. I’ll go easy on the dirtying up around here:)