Just Friday.

I currently have two pumpkin pies in the oven. The turkey’s going in around noon.

I know, Thanksgiving was yesterday.

I didn’t make the traditional Thanksgiving dinner yesterday though. Because it was just the four of us plus my sister and my parents (my in-laws couldn’t make it this year) we decided to make reservations at the Brazilian steakhouse for meat-on-a-stick.

I can’t let the Thanksgiving weekend go by without making a turkey, so today it is.

(And tomorrow? Latkes and blintzes for our big Hanukkah family celebration. THAT’S MY SUPER BOWL, you guys.)

Thanksgiving is such a weird holiday for us, and I’m not even talking about how Hanukkah coincided with it this year for the first time in 400 years. It’s just…not our favorite. We’ve had a few incidents over the years that have caused us to call today “Black Friday” for reasons completely unrelated to shopping. There’ve been two Black Fridays, one Black Thursday, and I’m pretty sure there was a Black Saturday in there somewhere. Suffice it to say that the mention of Thanksgiving usually sends a shudder down my spine (and Jim’s, too). That’s why I love changing things up when it comes to Turkey Day.

Dinner last night was fabulous—super relaxing and we had fun catching up with my parents—and afterwards, my sister and parents went back to her apartment. After we stopped home so D could grab some overnight stuff, Jim drove him to my sister’s so the two of them could venture out before midnight for Record Store Day and when he returned, we watched a movie with J and his girlfriend.

This morning the house is still. J is still sleeping and Jim and D went on their traditional post-Thanksgiving hike. I put the pies in the oven and here I sit, reveling in the peace and quiet and enjoying the realization that it’s not Sunday yet and I have two more full days of…this.

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