|Siri from last Thanksgiving|
Some years there has been a turkey trot, some years there hasn’t. Some years there have been significant others gathered around the table and other years there haven’t. Some years it’s freezing cold and we’re bundled in sweaters and other years we wear shorts and tank tops. My mother, always the last-minute-guest-inviter, never lets anyone spend Thanksgiving at home by themselves and has a knack for guilting guests into attending. She bulk orders take-out containers, so that everyone goes home with enough food to last them through the remainder of the week.
This year, we’re shaking things up a bit. My dad has asked B and I to smoke the turkey, freeing up the oh-so-valuable oven for basically everything else. Dad has never relinquished the turkey title before so cross your fingers that we won’t let him down. It’s also a bit of a throwback Thanksgiving because Iris and her boyfriend want to help in the meal preparation (instead of napping and watching football). Way back when, my sister used to bake of our Thanksgiving pies. She is meticulous and a perfectionist and as a result, the pies would turn out beautifully and arrive at the dinner table at the very last acceptable moment.
I have a menu planned and the table decorations sorta-kinda thought out in my head. We won’t be repeating the purple bachelorette party theme of 2013 again, that’s for sure. Meanwhile, if you see a crazy lady stocking up on butter at the grocery store this weekend, that’ll be me.