**I wrote this post a week ago with the intention of adding the pictures later in the day. Unfortunately my computer had other plans. No pictures for now, but I'd better put the post up about Thanksgiving before we get too deep into December. Besides, I have a Sinterklaas party to blog about. Let's all hope I can post pictures for that one.**
Oh, yes, it was that time of year again already. As always, there was no way to celebrate the holiday on Thursday. This always depresses me a little bit, and I think even more so now that Facebook and Instagram light up with a million posts wishing everyone a Happy Thanksgiving. My mood was also not helped when I stopped in for coffee in my regular café and ended up talking to a Notre Dame fan. The man was obviously American and had a Notre Dame jacket on, so I asked him if he was from Indiana--just to be nice. He was, in fact, but had about three words to say to say to me after learning that I was not from South Bend and not a Notre Dame fan. Ugh, that man only served to reinforce my stereotypes about Fighting Irish fans.
The rest of the day was fine and busy with prep work. A quick call to my father-in-law that night confirmed that the bird had arrived and was big enough for our group of ten. The only questions in my mind were weather the roasting pan was big enough and if I could just squeak it into the oven. My father-in-law assured me that everything would fit with room to spare. He was half right; it all fit, but I had to take out my oven thermometer to get it to fit.
I took Martha Stewart's advice this year and did as much prep work before the actual day arrived. She was right, I was less stressed on Saturday, but it didn't dissipate my stress, it merely redistributed it. At least I had help in the kitchen on Friday: two babies (mine and my friend's) and a good friend doing all peeling and chopping that I hate to do.
And for the first time, I felt very good about the bird. I resisted the urge to take it out early since I, yet again, failed to insert the instant-read thermometer correctly and got a skewed reading of the internal temperature. Fifteen-pound turkeys don't cook in two hours, they just don't, so I turned off the temperature alarm and kept my eyes on the clock. All in all, a great success. I miss my family and friends and get a little homesick, but this year really felt like a Thanksgiving day. Maybe it was the mass chaos caused by the kids, or maybe it's because I feel more at home here now. What's really helped make it feel like Thanksgiving are the massive amounts of leftovers we have in our fridge. I think I may have one more turkey sandwich left in me, and after our turkey soup tomorrow-oh God, there is enough soup for Thursday's dinner--I'll be ready for a break until next November.