Wake up.
Make the coffee, walk the dogs.
Start getting breakfast ready. Cinnamon rolls and bacon. Because Thanksgiving and because gluttony!
Google Meet with my parents, grandparents, brother, sister-in-law, and nieces. Great to see everyone, but hard to hear them.
Our dinner this year (just me and the wife, as even during non-COVID times Thanksgiving is just too hard to get home for, being alone with each other has become our custom): French onion mac and cheese (four caramelized onions,white cheddar and gruyere cheese sauce, toasted garlic slices on top), and crispy brussel sprouts with balsamic and honey. As someone who is often intolerant to lactose, this may lead to many farts.
Watched Happiest Season on Hulu with dinner expecting to mock it the entire time. And it wasn’t great, but honestly, the trailer doesn’t do it justice. There are some genuinely funny moments (thanks Dan Levy and Mary Holland), and Kristin Stewart has better comic timing than I would have given her credit for. If you have Hulu, I says watch it.
My wife found a recipe for single-serving pumpkin pies, and we threw those together a little later. And they were okay. I think when you get your recipe from Bustle you’re taking a risk, but she was pretty gung ho about it, and I definitely ate all of mine.
Passed out on the couch, bellies delightfully distended.
Went to bed, and before passing out there I reflected on all of the extremes of emotion that have happened in our bed. From the obvious fun moments, to my dog dying in our arms, to calling my parents to tell them I had a touch of the cancer, to last night, when I had videoed my wife snoring on the couch, and she was both so offended and yet so entertained that we both laughed until we cried.
Happy Thanksgiving.
Good night.
