or...what I like to think of as the day I celebrate when my Anglo brethren's ancestors had a glutonous feast in recognition of the blessing God had given them..a new land to conquer. I imagine the proud feelings they must have had at their meger first steps toward civilizing the local savages. "This is a fork" (those thankless, simpletons..gripers)
It will just be my little family (me, H, kid) as it always is..since we do not live near close family
It's actually the way I like it. I make the feast. I get control of how the feast goes. I get the left overs. (which no matter how much I make , and I have learned to make enough stuffing for a party of twelve, at least) That man will have it all gone within a few days. He is an eating machine.
Also, a nice perk..we don't have to dress up if we don't want to.
What are your plans this year?
“Whether you sniff it smoke it eat it or shove it up your ass the result is the same: addiction.”
― William S. Burroughs
(love&forgive yourself..and everyone else)