Thankgiving at the neighbors

For the past six or seven years, Brad has carried out his own Thanksgiving tradition, crafting a unique, formal, multi-course, fully vegetarian meal (which is, sorry, better than whatever traditional Thanksgiving meal you ate.  But don’t feel bad.  Not everyone can be a food service professional.  I’m certainly not.)  Every T. holiday I’ve spent with Brad has also been shared with my brother.  This year my bro is in Idaho, and I was all sad that the tradition would have to be changed.  It was really, really changed!

We were kindly invited to Thanksgiving at the neighbors’, where several other community members were also in attendance.  It was an education.  One member of the party has metal plates in his head (I didn’t catch why), and the hostess enjoyed sticking refrigerator magnets to his noggin (successfully!)  Another visitor was hatching her Black Friday plans, while her brother remarked on how he wanted a new gun for Christmas but no one on earth could possibly know which one, so could he please have a gift certificate to Cabela’s?  I’m pretty certain the answer was no on that, since she is so not a gift certificate kind of gal.  I was told the story of the recent re-opening of the local paper mill and invited a little forcefully to join the area’s economic development council.  I discovered that snowmobiling is essentially a religion here — the town’s one church is only open 4 months a year, but the snow is around longer than that, you know.  Tattoo stories were shared, and related stories about chaperoning annual senior trips (to such mysteriously educational places as Disney World and West Virginia.  I’m still lost on the WV one).  My kids played with the grown children of our neighbor, who were visiting from their homes-in-other-places.  As we left, H said, “I really liked playing with that 20-year-old guy.  Is he a kid?”

Next year maybe we’ll be stocked and settled enough to return to something like the other tradition, or we’ll travel to see family.  Or maybe this will be the new Thanksgiving.


About sayingthings

K lives in the US with her man and kiddos, knits, cans, dehydrates, bakes bread, (but doesn't cook regular food, particularly), crochets, spins, gardens, studies for a degree that never seems to end, and um, works. Sometimes she wastes time online. Also -- and family, she's looking at you here -- sometimes she swears and says things you might not agree with. But she still loves you.

Posted on November 29, 2009, in Fambly, Food, Friends. Bookmark the permalink. 3 Comments.

  1. hah

    I totally went to Suz & Paul’s this year. It was far to travel, but I had a week off. The were very generous, and the food was tasty. I rode a bike for the first time in a while; I’ve been fantasizing about getting a trike (with 2 wheels in the front). But I also have been nightmaring that with the lower riding-level I wouldn’t be able to see dangers, and so then I get injured in my fantasy-turned-paranoid-vision.

    Wrestling is a religion and snowmobiling is a religion? What a polytheistic place you moved to…

  2. You are quite welcome!

  3. knittingunderwater

    Well, you touched upon some of the reasons why I hated growing up in a small, rural area. I still refuse to snowmobile, or skidoo just on principle. However, the magnets is awesome!

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