Yesterday afternoon I had my first normal Thanksgiving meal in about two years. I mean one that had turkey and dressing, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, biscuits, cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie!
You see, I am married to an Indonesian woman. Pretty much all our friends are Indonesian. All our relatives are Indonesian. My family has long since passed away, and I'm so damn disagreeable that I really have no personal friends to speak of. For this reason, the usual Thanksgiving fare would consist of rice and noodles, and maybe soup with fish balls.
It's just not the same, is it?
But in this case, a husband of one of the Indonesian girls came through with the traditional fare. And had the Cowboys/Seahawks game on the TV to boot!
I ate like a pig. I ate some for my mother, for my father, for my brother, for my aunts and uncles. I even ate some for my grandmothers and grandfathers, who had died before I was even born.