Another Thanksgiving passed. The husband fondly refers to our Thanksgivings as “Groundhog Day,” as every year it’s the same crowd (give or take a new significant other or new dog), the same place (my in-laws’ house), the same conversations, the same schedule.
But it’s fun, and it’s familiar. This year there were 23 of us crowded around the table sharing laughter, food, and wine. My mother-in-law has been hosting Thanksgiving for years now, and she’s a trained pro. She makes it look so easy, I couldn’t imagine having 22 people to dinner without feeling distracted and stressed, but she doesn’t bat an eye. She even smiles and cracks a joke here and there!
After dinner and pie, we caravanned back to our house to watch the husband’s newly completed film (another yearly tradition). There were plans of a night out, McCarthy’s perhaps for a drink, but the turkey hit everyone just before 9, and we all found our respective beds or sleeping bags just after Grey’s Anatomy.
There’s talk that next year we’ll switch things up a bit and hold Thanksgiving at our new house. Gulp. I should’ve taken notes yesterday.