I holler Uncle. While I like the idea of a day of thanks, I really, really hate all the foods and gluttony associated with this day. I don’t like Turkey, marshmallows are disgusting, and they are in everything, from the yams to the jello to the pumpkin pie- which all three of those food, even without the marsh of mallows, would still be on my Hate-It food list. Stuffing and gravy can bite me. Mushy, soggy bread with turkey fat? How many ways can I say “No thank you!” Yes, I even hate pumpkin pie. I know. So sue me. I’m really sorry if we can’t be friends now- I promise I won’t care what your oddities are. I’m a picky eater. Oh yeah, that and the wheat allergy. Look around at your table and figure out what a Celiac could nosh… Yeah. Slim pickins.
The idea of getting out the good dishes, setting the table and putting on the pomp and circumstance of a formal holiday was just more than I could bear. Things are NOT normal, and no amount of pinecone centerpieces and orange cloth napkins is going to cover the fact that there is a permanent empty spot at our table. I’d rather not draw too much attention to it. Believe me, no one forgets anyway.
So I’m revolting.
We are having a Mexican fiesta. I’m fixing pulled pork tacos, tamales, relano pie, guacamole (which you know I own) and even homemade corn tortillas. Nothing makes Beanie happier than squashing masa on the press. My single nod to tradition is a tiny, teeny little pumpkin pie I picked up for Jared, since he was in Iraq last Turkey Day. Otherwise, all bets are off.
Happy Turkey Day everyone. Count your blessing, name them one by one…