Can I just say that I LOVE Thanksgiving? I start dreaming about it in the summer. Then all the pie-making and turkey roasting accoutrements are put on display at the grocery store, then Thanksgiving-themed Food Network shows come on, and by the time November rolls around it takes all of my willpower to keep myself from "testing" recipes for stuffing and pie and sides and desserts- and by "testing" I mean "making and consuming all by myself". I cannot wait. There is only one week to go. I hadn't really thought about it, but I think Thanksgiving could be tied for my favorite holiday. What's not to love about a day full of cooking and eating and eating again because hello, it's Thanksgiving?
This Thanksgiving is especially exciting because, well, the last have been kind of disappointing. Three years ago we went back to see le hubby's family and we ate at a restaurant. WITH NO PUMPKIN PIE. Two years ago most of my family went up to my mom's for turkey, but we weren't able to go, so we went to my sister-in-law's family's thing. The food was good and they were very nice. So why would I complain about that? Well, because I was pregnant and all I wanted in the world on Thanksgiving were my mom's insanely good rolls. Hey, don't judge me. I am not ungrateful or ungracious. I did not complain ever... to them. Well, at least, not until now. But the fetus demands what it demands, and it was demanding mom's rolls. They were pregnancy cravings, people. Big, aching, mouth-watering pregnancy cravings. I HAD NO CONTROL. So, yes, the lovely gracious people who invited us to their lovely absolutely-nothing-wrong-with-it-except-not-having-mom's-rolls Thanksgiving dinner disappointed me. Sorry. I am evil. No, wait, I was PREGNANT, in case you forgot. Try it sometime. But, I digress. Last year Thanksgiving was being held across town. After I spent the day preparing my portion of the meal, my eight-month-old came down with a very high fever. Now, I love her, but again, the rolls. The year before I was having very vivid dreams about baked goods thanks to said child's incubation, and now she would be keeping me from them. For the love.
So, I am excited about this year. I'm not sure whose home I am going to, but my mom's rolls will be there. As will pie. And stuffing. Halle-frickin-lujah.