Nothing fills me with rage more than watching people put Christmas trees up on November 1. I am of a rare breed who thinks that Thanksgiving is the single greatest holiday in our calendar year. It seems as though the rest of society would beg to differ, but fuck them. What do they know? Now sit back, shut up, and listen while I tell you why Thanksgiving is the best holiday ever.
First of all, Carbs. Your argument is invalid. It is the one day a year we celebrate, unbrazenly, those macro-nutrients we strive to avoid year round: mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, stuffing, gravy. Even the vegetable get de-healthyfied: green bean casserole, corn casserole. My God, I am salivating just thinking about it. Even Christmas with all it’s hammy glory can’t compete with the salty, starchy, carby deliciousness that is Thanksgiving.
Secondly, Football. All day. On a Thursday. Is there anything better than going all Kirstie Alley at the Thanksgiving table, then slipping into a turkey induced mini-coma while listening to Cris Collinsworth commentate the Detroit Lions (because they play every year for some reason) getting their asses handed to them? Don’t bother answering because the answer is no. No, there is not anything better than that.
Thirdly, wine. Admittedly, this is not exclusive to Thanksgiving, but honestly, there is nothing like having a bottle of nice smooth, buttery Sonoma Cutrer Chardonnay with a giant turkey leg. Yes, I said bottle. We all know you’re not surprised.
Finally, (this one might be specific to me, but it’s my blog so suck it) the Traditional Sabaduquia Thanksgiving. No, I did not sneeze mid-sentence, and no, it has nothing to do with the Flintstones. When I was growing up I spent every Thanksgiving with my dad and his family. It was a small group. Just me, Dad, my step-mom, my uncle, aunt, grandma, and grandpa. It was really the only time of the year we all got together. Everyone in the family had their “thing.” My grandmother would scream at my grandfather so he could hear her. He would, of course, turn his hearing aid down so he couldn’t hear her. My uncle always ate white rice instead of mashed potatoes for some reason. My aunt would always sleep for the majority of the day. God bless her with her three jobs. My dad would count down the minutes until we were done eating and could start drinking and gambling. And my step-mom, spent the day dodging my grandmother’s passive-aggressive comments. The whole thing was orchestrated imperfection. I loved every minute of it. We would eat, gamble, drink, then eat again. We would all stay up way too late, and I don’t think I’ve ever laughed as hard in all my life.
My grandmother has since passed away, and my grandfather is in the hospital after a serious accident. Since I now I have three kids, I have taken on the tradition of hosting Thanksgiving, even following my grandmother’s world-famous stuffing recipe. I miss those days of hilarious chaos in a way I can’t even explain. I would do anything to have them back. Even though it will never be exactly the same, I am so happy to practice the same traditions, and introduce new ones for my family.
Thanksgiving is about pure, unadulterated, family time. There is no tree. There are no presents. There are no over the top decorations. There are no expectation. There are no ulterior motives. It’s about reflecting on all the things you already have, not all the things you want. It’s about spending time with the family that drives you nuts, but recognizing that what drives you nuts are the things you will miss the most when they’re not there. It’s about creating traditions that your family will hold dear for the rest of their lives. But mostly, it’s just about the carbs.