Now That We've Had A Week to Digest the Canned Cranberries

           “Dear Eight Pound, Six Ounce, Newborn Baby Jesus...” 

Of the many suggestions I received about how to begin my Thanksgiving blog (runners up included prairie dogs and gin rummy), this one was the winner, suggested by my dad but quoted by my sister, Andrea.  Twice.  At each Thanksgiving dinner we sat down to, Andrea made a valiant attempt to deliver these lines from Talladega Nights with a straight face, and (sadly) we all cracked up both times.

It has been exactly a week since Thanksgiving, and now that I’ve finished this week’s slew of papers, it seems like it is time to return to that day of chocolate pie and crescent rolls (I am one of those rare souls that doesn’t really like turkey), and dedicate this post to my most loyal readers—my family.  I sent the link to my dad, who sent the link to my mom, who naturally sent the link to the entire family, and now I have an appreciative audience with all sorts of suggestions regarding what I should write about.

But while I’ll spare you the details of prairie dog hunting and gin rummy rules, I will say how nice it was to see my family.  The best part about all their suggestions is that everyone seemed to be giving them at once—compliments and comments interspersed with questions about school and lots of hugs.  While Aunt Katie asked about my bet, my 10-year-old cousin Hallie was asking me a thousand questions about my roommates and my house (she loves asking about college life)—I’m thinking I should just make her roommate stat cards, like baseball cards, so she can have them for quick reference. 

Thanksgiving was a day for some serious gratitude and for some fun times.  On the serious side, my grandma on my dad’s side (“Gamma”) made a speech before dinner about her gratitude for our family that had at least me, my mom, and my sister tearing up.  On my mom’s side of the family, we said the Thanksgiving grace we say every year (no, not the one from Talladega Nights), which my grandma (“Nana”) just read to me over the phone so I could include it here:

“Thank you, Lord, for this Thanksgiving gathering.  We are grateful to be connected to each other and to those who are absent but remain dear to us.  We remember with gratitude those who have lived before us and passed on a legacy that enriches us.  We anticipate with joy those will live after us.  Oh God, we give our deepest thanks that we are one with each other, with what has been, and with what will be.  Amen.”

            Fun times included my cousin Brian and I (as newbie 21-year-olds) discovering that the Thanksgiving wine isn’t as good as the sparkling cider, and trying to sneakily dump our glasses in various other adult’s glasses while no one was looking.  At my Nana and Pop’s house we discovered that it was almost impossible to play Scattegories and taboo together because we all think too much alike—who automatically thinks Betty Boop for a famous female?  Apparently both Aunt Katie and I do.  And Sam and Andrea—my siblings—both yelling “Beer Pong!” for a hobby that begins with ‘b’ definitely turned some heads (especially because I know neither have them have even seen a beer pong game).  I dread the onset of finals, but I enjoy thinking back to that day—a time to be Thankful for all the blessings and happiness I have found both with my family and here at school. 

           

My favorite people (The Body family)