Thanksgiving 2.0. It’s so much work. And so much harder to do it all by oneself instead of the real Thanksgiving thing where everybody brings something. And even with good shoes, two days on a hard tile floor are hard on old bones and arthritic joints.
But ever since Grandpa Jacobs told me–at the ripe of age of 90-something–how much he loved it because it tasted good and when you’re old you can’t taste anything anymore.
And ever since I realized how much Grandma Jacobs loved my steamed carrot pudding–incidentally handed down from my great great grandmother on my dad’s side–and that no one else except for me and mom and Shane really appreciate.
And ever since I realized how much my mom looked forward to it year after year after year and thought everything was perfect (which, coming from a mom, is super high praise).
And ever since I had married kids and realized not obligating people to be somewhere one Thursday out of the year when they had two families to try and please and maybe one day might want to have their own Thanksgiving at their place, so having Thanksgiving 2.0 on an arbitrary Sunday a week or two after greatly reduces the pressure of keeping track or trying to be two places at once. (Enough of that on Christmas, right?)
And ever since I realized that if you make all your own dishes at your house then you not only get turkey dressing made your way and generous amounts of pecans with your streusel-topped yams, you also get hot leftover turkey sandwiches with homemade turkey gravy the next day.
[Day 188 of Ann Dee Ellis’ 8-Minute Memoir.]