Holiday. Happy.

The aftermath: the sink is full of dishes. Food is still sitting on the stove. Both boys are snoozing. I’m sipping wine and peppermint tea and watching football alone.

It was my first year to prepare and host Thanksgiving lunch. We started small with just my husband, his brother (visiting from 1,500 miles away), and me. I cooked everything but the bird since I’m not of the meat-eating inclination. Here’s all of it, minus the pecan pie:


Not too shabby. The mashed potatoes were my favorite, thanks to the ultimate wedding present: the Kitchen Aid. Xenu bless it.

The boys are in questionable shape due to killing two pitchers of beer and 3.5 bottles of wine last night. My poor brother-in-law was hit the hardest; he hardly ate any of his food and is on nap #2. My husband felt worse earlier but is now better, though sleepy. I escaped unscathed with my two ciders only and early bedtime.

It was kind of a perfect holiday. I started it with a run/walk and only took off my leggings long enough to shower. I’m the only bathed person in the apartment, actually. We’ve been low-key, and I didn’t stress once about all the prep. It’s a Thanksgiving miracle!

We put up our Christmas tree on Sunday. I know, I know, but for some reason I really wanted to. I’m usually a huge Scrooge about the holidays, so this was a big step. Our tree is borderline ridiculous. The tree itself is actually very nice; it was an almost-new hand-me-down. Our decorations are all things from around the house instead of real ornaments. We love it that way. It’s silly and personal and a tradition we’d actually like to keep.

So, at the risk of sounding cheesy, I am feeling thankful today. I’m thankful for a truly happy holiday. I’m thankful for the family I chose, and the one who chooses me. I’m thankful for baby steps toward controlling my stress and sadness. I’m thankful for relaxation, and hot showers, and my tea kettle. I’m thankful to be able to offer thanks today.


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