Thanksgiving begins in the kitchen. Although I have handed out the recipe, I am still responsible for making the stuffing. The turkey barely fit in the roasting pan. I needed Henry’s help.
Betsy was the host this year. It’s good she has so much counter space. Here she is, almost ready. I have to say that as devoted as I am to eating local food, I am happy that we can also eat delicious fruits and vegetables from far away. Without oranges and sweet potatoes, tea and coffee, cinnamon and all the spices of Araby, our Massachusetts Thanksgiving would not be what it is. I am grateful for all the precious foods from around the country and around the world.
Too much going on during dinner to take photos. Just before dinner Colleen was complaining about her history class which was all about the U.S. Constitution. She did not find the document riveting, but as the rest of us began talking about it we realized we had a lot to say about the Bill of Rights, although we couldn’t identify half of them by number. Fortunately through the magic of Google, Bing and the Internet, I called up a copy of the Constitution with all its amendments. Before anyone was allowed to put fork to mouth I read all 10 Amendments that make up the Bill of Rights; we found controversy even in our little group and there was lively discussion. Next year I thought we could read the rest of the Amendments. Colleen just rolled her eyes. The camera came out again – at the same time as the pies.
Thanksgiving is all about sharing. Caitlin even shared her tunes with The Major.
Diane and Tricia planned a Black Friday shopping trip, but Michelle was going to be busy in her own shop Michelle Willey’s in Boston. It’s a great place to gift shop for those who love to make their home beautiful and comfortable. Of course, the danger is you might find something you love, too. You can even do some shopping on line now.
We hope you all had as full and rich a day with gratitude for the blessings we share as American citizens. Maybe next year we’ll look at the Mayflower Compact. Didn’t it all really begin there?