I have learned, in the years since my mother "gifted" me the Thanksgiving meal, that if I cook, my family will come. They are not picky about what they eat (well, maybe a little), but (unfortunately for me) I am. Each dish must be just right, and there must be just the right combination of all our favorite things.
This week is the Super Bowl of food...the culmination of all our favorite things to eat, and (hopefully) all our favorite people. I admit that I have a hard time with this week. I plan, and I cook, and I clean, and they come and they eat. All the work and it's over in 20 minutes. And my family all act as if we roasted wienies over the fire -- it was no big deal, right?
Pride is always getting in the way of just enjoying the holiday and appreciating the fact that my family even wants to see me at all.
Damn that Adam and Eve.
And thus, tonight I am headed to Adoration, to beg for the graces necessary to make it through tomorrow with a smile on my face and my pride hidden somewhere at the bottom of the garbage can under the potato peels.
As my dear girlfriend Joanie just said this morning, I shall be Mary before I am Martha.
I'll be praying for your holiday, too, dear friends. For your safe travels, and those of your dear families, and the moistest, tastiest bird ever (and lots of happy compliments for you, too)! ;-)