This time of year is all about the meal. And giving thanks. For the meal.
Now I lay me down to eat:
I prey upon the turkey meat.
Stuffing follows in its wake,
Buried in a gravy lake.
Now I lay me down to rest,
After some more chicken breast.
If I shall die before I wake,
I won’t regret this food I take.
With Thanksgiving comes the giving of thanks. Just like the word says. And there are so many things that I’m thankful for:
- Turkey: I’m thankful for only having to cook that beast once a year. It’s big, it’s awkward, it never cooks quite right, and it’s the least interesting thing on the plate. But it has to be there, like traffic on a highway as soon as you enter it, or like regrets at a wedding.
- Gravy: It’s so helpful that someone packaged up gravy to look like a complex and gourmet food. I’d look pretty stupid drinking a glass full of lard at the table, but nobody bats an eye when I dump ladles-full of gravy onto my plate until it runneth over.
- Early dinnertime: The rest of the year, we’re only allowed to eat dinner in the evening. But on Thanksgiving, we can bury our faces in the trough as early as 4 o’clock… 3 o’clock… even noon. And then we just keep eating for the rest of the day. The only thing stopping the progress is a heart attack, which hasn’t happened yet.
- Heart attacks that haven’t happened yet. So keep on eating. It’s not bedtime yet.
- The Stomach: It’s amazing to me that you can put so much into that dark place and have it actually contract back to (mostly) it’s original size. Nobody knows the secret abuse you heap upon it that day because the scars and bruises don’t show. Yet.
- Wine: Because you can’t fit all that food down without some lubricant. And maybe a tamping rod.
- Water: Because of all that wine.
- Holidays: Because we need more than just a weekend to recover from what we’ve done to ourselves.