Oh, Thanksgiving. With interstate congestion, relatives lingering long after dessert and the imminent Black Friday, what's not to love? Not that I don't think about my family, but maybe I don't think about them as much when I'm 150 miles safely away, though it's evident they think about me. In the past, Thanksgiving dinner proceeds like an interview, my mom silently laughing in her seat while my grandpa asks if they still keep the boys and the girls in different classrooms. And everyone takes a third glass of wine.
Although the day is one for gratitude and appreciation for what we have, family included, by the third quarter of "the game," we have our fingers crossed for an electric storm, hoping a sudden power outage will motivate "the men" to scoop up their respective families and hightail it home for the game's commentary. (Un)fortunately, it's a clear forecast this Thanksgiving, and thus, I offer a few tips and ideas to begin and end the holiday as Scroogelessly as possible.
Put on your oven mitts – or find a microwave-safe dish. If your family is like mine, dinner is a potluck, wherein each household contributes to the cornucopia, so the burden of cooking doesn't fall on just one family. Contribute your own dish. If you're unaware that there's a way to cook stuffing other than from a box, go for something a little simpler. Make a modest bowl of Ramen noodles and place it alongside the casseroles and potatoes with a note, relying on the stereotypical college diet of noodles and macaroni. Your family will be amused and your dish will nicely segue into the unavoidable "How's college?" discussion.
Rather than fumbling for answers or offering a generic, "Oh, it's good," to their inquiries, think of three or four specific college things you can talk about. Try classes, an organization or, if your family's into it, the most affordable beer in Muncie, though anticipate following that question with a recount of not-so-sober weekend antics, which may or may not involve a game of nearly naked Twister.
Put the "give" in Thanksgiving. For me, the after-dinner-but-before-dessert lull is a confusing limbo. Relatives protest to an early dessert and Grandpa says he needs time for his indigestion, the flatulence of which we eagerly await. If possible, retreat from the family for a few minutes, especially if you're about to overdose on Grandma's retirement stories and your uncle's tech talk. As the rarely-seen-college-student-returned-home, you're well within your rights to start brewing the coffee and slicing the pie at your discretion. Though they'll graciously accept the dessert, commenting on your astuteness, they will remain unaware of your ulterior motive to keep the process moving along.
Reminisce over the dinner. If the relatives are melting into the couch rather than gathering coats and locating car keys, begin a conversation about how wonderful dinner was. By complementing various dishes, you can also infer how much you ate, and consequentially, how tired you are. Getting tired at Thanksgiving is like yawning; it's contagious and when someone verbalizes their fatigue, the exhaustion is bound to catch on.
Just laugh about it. I know my grandparents will offer conservative criticisms of Obama and the world-at-large, and I know my second- and third-grade cousins will break something, so we put away "Time" and "Newsweek," and let everyone at the kid's table (of which, it seems, I'm a permanent member) use brightly colored plasticware. Still, when a political story unexpectedly flashes across the screen or a glass more fragile than we thought meets the floor, all you can do is laugh. And remember: Thanksgiving is just one day of the year.
Last year at this time, I studied abroad, therefore missing Thanksgiving dinner, and instead I quietly sipped coffee in a little Viennese café. After missing a year of "food, fellowship and fun" as the grandparents say, I'm eager to indulge in home-cooked meals and contribute to my family's endearing, if not frustrating antics. Undoubtedly, my younger cousins will be in their school's Thanksgiving program and will come to dinner attired as pilgrims or Indians and my Grandma will wear a perfectly tacky sweater, the Mayflower majestically sailing around her waist. Despite the many Bible verses Grandma will recall or how many times Kasey, my eight-year-old cousin, sings her "Song of Thanks," I'm determined to keep a smile on my face, whether it's natural or inspired by a frequently emptied wine glass.
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