Thanksgiving

Tim and I weren't going to miss it. No stinking way. And if the only way was for us to do it, though we'd never, ever been in charge of the situation, so be it.

Thanksgiving. It's a make-or-break holiday; reputations are born in November kitchens.

From the beginning their were problems, the ridiculous, cliched type of problems people encounter on their first foray into the Feast. The turkey wasn't defrosted enough. The power kept going out. Alyssa's pie fell over as she was pulling it out of the oven. And we're doing this all in the fucking Czech Republic, where people think of holidays as a day of rest. Bloody hell.


But we got through it. I rocked the mashed potatoes, made the stuffing, set up the veggie sampler. Tim concentrated on the bird and the gravy. Friends started filtering in and though we were late, we got it done.

I'm not sure what age most people change from Thanksgiving attendee to Thanksgiving preparer, but it's nice to know that we're capable of such adversities, and we can in fact flourish. Well, maybe not flourish exactly, but get drunk and eat a lot of food we made. At least we can do that.