Thanksgiving outside the US is so NOT a holiday. This makes it even harder for me to be on the other side of the planet for my favorite of all holidays, as the lack of whoop-la only serves to emphasize just how lame my attempts to rope folks into the spirit of it all are.

(Not that I don't get a good turn-out and enthusiastic accolades for a well-turned bird! People are always happy to eat the turkey, but they just don't get it.)


It's my mom I miss most this time of year. Her Thanksgiving routine is so routine that I can accurately picture exactly what she's doing at any given moment in the two days leading up to the Thursday, and if I really concentrate I can even get a whiff of what her kitchen is smelling like.

In addition to the giblets boiling away in a pot next to the potatoes, the turkey roasting and the peas and onions ready to go, there will be pumpkin pies on the washing machine ... that's where she keeps them until serving time ... and a green Jell-o mold with cherries and pineapple. (One year she had the unmitigated gall to make orange Jell-o! Did she every hear about that!)

Her stuffing recipe was her mother's, and now it's mine, although I'm forced to substitute ingredients most years, so my bird taste a lot like hers ... but different.

This photo is my mom at story time with my nephew and niece from a few Thanksgivings ago. It is SO Mom, catching her so perfectly I can hear her voice.

Happy Thanksgiving, Mom! I love you.