Well, that was interesting. I’m speaking, of course, of the most unusual Thanksgiving I can recall. And in retrospect, I kinda’ liked it. Blasphemy!
Normally, we would have hauled whichever kids were not a member of Seal Team “Carmel Color Guard” down to Kentucky or over to Ohio for my-side-of-the-family festivities, such as Scrabble tournaments, forced nature walks and Black Friday “Hunger Games” at the mall cinemas to watch the newest stupid holiday movie. We’d cram our six-pack into a single Embassy Suites hotel room, sleep terribly and gorge ourselves on all things fattening and delicious. My husband Doo and I would take the rest of the weekend to recover and guilt trip each other into putting up Christmas decorations. We’d be lucky if we disposed of the rotting pumpkins on our porch.
Not this year! COVID-19 meant we were staying put, and because our eldest daughter learned that she’d been exposed to a germy McGerm cousin right before Turkey Day, we initiated DEFCON 5 for the entire household, excluding, of course, Meijer, which I frequented thrice daily.
Keeping with tradition, I did channel Martha Stewart and create an hour-by-hour agenda that I strong-armed everyone into following. Football and a cheeseboard, competitive Jeopardy that almost came to blows when the shade being thrown started to resemble a Pollock painting, Zoom calls and an early feast, followed by a neighborhood walk. And for the finale, a communal viewing of “Raiders of the Lost Ark.” I was in my own bed by 9 p.m.
Did I miss seeing family? Absolutely. But did I miss the craziness of a typical Thanksgiving? I did not. Blasphemy, I know!
Peace out.
