The Routine

Everyone has one. A routine. A way that they have always done things. Maybe not always, but for a long time and you get used to it.

Thanksgiving has been a routine for me.

For a decade now.

I feed the masses.

And I know, that will not always be the case.

I know that things change from year to year. Month to month. Day to day.

But for this year….

I got up and put a pot of fresh pumpkin spice latte on the stove to get the morning going. I took a hot bath and put in my barrettes that were made for me by Mary Ann of the Arapahoe tribe, given to me while I learned how to say “buffalo” and “elk” in their native language when I lived there…. for 6 years, when I was 11. I tied my apron around my waist. Not a new one this year.  And…

I cooked.

And cooked.

And cooked.

I co-made the most beautiful meat and cheese trays I have ever seen…. because… well, internet inspiration, and I we HAD to make them just as perfect.  I cooked desserts. I chopped and cut and stuffed and mashed and had the help that I’m used to having. The routine I’m used to. And with 30 minutes remaining, as always.. the kitchen becomes a hot chaotic mess full of too many bodies and too much food. Green beans flying. Marshmallows browning. Turkey carving. Stuffing being stuffed into pans, cranberry sauce being glopped out of the cans (because seriously… the canned sauce is so so awesome)  Drinks pouring ( I count on my best friend to pour drinks on Thanksgiving, because by the time she arrives, I am sweaty and normally overwhelmed….and her handing me a drink, especially a beautiful one she concocts means so much.)

And by the time the dinner is served… we say grace, and I sit and watch. Because eating is too tiring. But reveling in the sight of everyone else eating… enjoying, talking, laughing…. it’s what makes it all worth it.

And no I don’t take many photos…because, well I don’t.

And then I put grandma (my husband’s grandma) to bed for a nap because Thanksgiving is a lot for her as well. After 90… who cares what you do?

And dessert.

Dessert is what it’s all about sometimes. It lasts for hours.

And pumpkin roll.

Forget Pumpkin Pie. At my house… it’s pumpkin roll (I have two new converts this year)

And then after three days of cleaning and cooking and sweating and chaos… I rest.

And sleep. Which I never do. But at the end of this I sleep.

Just to wake and have pumpkin pie and coffee for breakfast.

Because that’s the routine.