When I was a kid our house was The Site Of Thanksgiving Dinner. Mom always made it, and the extended family came. I enjoyed my relatives, but I hated
the food. It's not Mom's cooking; it's just that I can't stand turkey, I'm neutral to stuffing, detest cranberry sauce, candied yams, and mashed potatoes (I like potatoes any
way but that
way), and I'm allergic to string beans. Dad would play bartender, making lots of fancy mixed drinks (heavy on the ice -- we weren't into getting drunk).
After Dad died I realized how miserable I was having to sit at this banquet of food I couldn't stand, especially with fewer relatives coming for one reason or another (alas, too many had died off early). Now Thanksgiving is The Time Of Year Dad Died, and I prefer not to be miserable.( What I do nowadays and how I got to it.Collapse ) Current Mood: pleased