Hands down, no question, ask us again and we'll roll our eyes and utter juvenile remarks, Thanksgiving is our favorite holiday. Some of the appeal is the simplicity, aw-shucks goodness of eating good food with loved ones and the lack of pretense about the day.
Much of it is comfort from the Groundhog Day-like sameness of it all, year-in, year-out.
Wake up late. Eat. Look at the circulars. Half-heartedly discussing shopping on Black Friday. Laugh at the nonsense of the prospect. Eat. Turn on the parade. Don't watch it. Eat. Watch the Lions humiliate themselves. Turn it off. Dress. Head to dinner. Sit around. Yum-yum, turkey. Mmmm. Seconds. "Oh no, I shouldn't." OK, thirds. Pie. Coffee. Sit around. Give thanks. Let's play a game. No, honest, we won't argue this year. Keep promise for 10 minutes. Argue. Laugh. Huggy-huggy. Happy happy. "This was the best Thanksgiving ever." Sleep. Wake up. Uh Oh. Everyone is sick.
So it was once again this year, and perfectly so. This time, there was a twist: Hope didn't get sick. (Knock on wood, rub rabbit's foot, toss salt behind shoulder, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice) Everyone else did, at least for a little bit. And we extended Thanksgiving with a long weekend up north, hence the blog break and .... introducing ... snow girl.
We think she dug it.