Working on Giving Thanks

New York

I can feel the angst begin.

I'm getting that tipsy feeling that starts when I hear "Deck the Halls" ALREADY. I used to love the holidays. Now, I love the idea of the holidays. But expectations are tricky. It reminds me a little bit of prom. The anticipation is both more exciting and more nerve-producing than the gig itself. Sounds cynical, I know.

Last night I called my sister in the midwest ( god bless her patient listening to her little sister ) about all I have to do before Thanksgiving guests arrive.

"I'm trying to write five more pages of my short story. I've got to go to Citarella's to get a turkey and some of their excellent sausage dressing--do you know how mean people get the day before Thanksgiving in New York in grocery stores? Ben's girlfriends' parents are coming for cocktails--their first visit to my apartment, second time I've met them. So, I'm thinking champagne would be fun. And I invited Yvonne, my classmate, here for six months from Dublin. She and her mom have never experienced an American Thanksgiving, so I invited them. I wonder if I have enough wine...." After a pause, I added: "What was I thinking?"

We laughed about our memories of Thanksgivings with our mother, always the perfect hostess, beautiful tablesettings, great food. And our aunts, mom's sisters, who always brought specific things--always delicious. Aunt Kate's specialty was pies; Aunt Jean's suet pudding with hard sauce. We always had extended family at our holiday table. Mother would invite someone whose husband had died the previous year. ( We were cordial to them, but like most kids, we weren't quite sure why they were with our family. Whose grammie were they? )

So, I'm off to Citarella's to see how mean the people are and buy a turkey. I haven't cooked a turkey for five years but I'll bet it's like riding a bike.

M.C.