A wonderful Thanksgiving to all my family, friends, and strangers who stop here. I felt too lousy this year to invite company, though I missed having folks in. The bug we have all had this fall is just relentless and keeps coming back to wrestle us all down. Maybe we'll feel better by spring.

What a quirky holiday this is. Only an American mom would not find it bizarre to get up really, really early in order to saute celery and onions, mix them (by hand of course ) with wet, squishy bread, dump in sage and pepper and stuff it all up the butt of a bird the size of an ostrich on steroids. As if it is humanly possible to eat that much turkey. As if anyone really wants to.
And then to spend the rest of the morning cooking (or watching the kids cook) all sorts of things that only get prepared and eaten here once a year. Like real mashed potatoes. Ambrosia salad, which requires about six different ingredients never found in my cupboards except in November. Gravy. Yams. And so on.

Things I am grateful for this Thanksgiving: The obvious of course; I love my family, our home and our lifestyle. And the dogs and cows and all. (Most days at least.) I am also thankful to the friends who provided fresh apples and squash from their orchards and gardens to aid in our holiday excesses. I am grateful to be toasty warm today because the guys brought in some wonderful hickory yesterday. I am grateful that I have to go out and run around the barn milking cows for a couple of hours so I can work off some of the turkey (that last is a lie but it sounds good).
For the sky painting itself a thousand shades of grey as a squall blew in this afternoon. It made a glorious backdrop to the dry grass blowing under the snow in the old horse pasture outside the big windows. The contrast between bright snow and stark cold trees made me glad for my comfortable chair. Not having to be on the road in said squall, when so many other folks were, was good too.
For a daughter that bakes tasty pies, which I don't, and a son who can carve turkey so I don't have to. For my other daughter milking my string all alone this morning so I could stuff that fat turkey's fanny full of bread. She doesn't really like to do any of the milking except prepping, but she did it anyhow. For leftovers and tomorrow to enjoy them, I say thanks too, although I am sure to be sick of turkey real soon.