My husband and I went to Bennigan’s for lunch this week and both of us were enticed by the “Day-After-Thanksgiving” sandwich. It’s embarrassing when we order the same thing, so we coordinated, and he ordered it, while I ordered some other side item, so we could share the sandwich. I know I’m going to sound like an ad for the restaurant, but have you had this sandwich? Mashed potatoes, stuffing, gravy, cranberries, and turkey on a pretzel-bread bun. We ordered a side of sweet potato fries to finish off the feast. It was everything we thought it would be: a delicious preview of Thanksgiving to get us by for another month.
The idea that sandwich could tide us over until the fourth week of November completely backfired. I could think of nothing else for the rest of the afternoon. Turkey. Cranberries. Grandma Ella’s pickled beets. Green-bean casserole. So much for pickles and ice cream; I’ve been fantasizing about a feast that is still seven long weeks away.
I confessed to my husband that night. I don’t think I can wait; I am going to have to roast a turkey. It’s wrong. It’s unseasonal. We should be focused on pumpkins right now. But I cannot get that turkey breast and cranberry sauce out of my head.
So, despite the three-week accumulation of housework I’ll have to overcome before guests can use my restroom or eat at my table, and the nap I will likely require while the turkey roasts - I guess I'm motivated by turkey when all else fails - we’ve invited a couple friends who seem to embrace our wacky sense of humor, and we are going to celebrate Thanksgiving with the Canadians this year. Don’t worry, we will still do our patriotic duty and overeat again on November 25th.
You give your guests a feast in your house, and you serve a tasty drink that flows like a river. Psalm 36:8