Thanksgiving

There's so much for me to give thanks for, especially in comparison to my last Thanksgiving which was in Arad and the only turkey in sight was breaded and heavily fried by a group of motherly Russian women with a penchant for shnitzel.

So in light of that, I am very happy to be home in Chicago, perhaps for the last time, with my family which has grown to include Mike. I've had lunch with my brother and sister at HP institution, Michael's. I've shoe-window-shopped with Shira. I've watched movie after movie with my father and caught up with my mother between her cooking meals large enough for to send extras to the new WUJies (and I think I might). I've also gone door to door to family friends to drop off Buckeyes (GO BUCKS!) and spiced nuts.

Still, my mom seems to use these holidays to sneak in her Old World flavorings that on most any other day would simply not be allowed. I seriously just peaked into the gravy and there was a turkey NECK in there, and what my mom called the "pupik." This, for those that don't have words like shmaltz, shmutz, and shluffen naturally roll of their tongue, refers to a belly button. I was reconciling myself to this when I realized turkeys lay eggs, they don't have belly buttons, WHAT IS GOING ON????? I now have to pray that this hasn't happened for the last 21 Thanksgivings, just as once I convinced myself my mother only threw in chicken feet to her matzah ball soup recipe that one time to scare me. Now I know better than to open any pot in our kitchen. If I had wanted random parts of crazy meat thrown into my food I would have traveled to China, or been more adventurous while in Japan.

So, as I give thanks and pray for the sanity of my family, my mother is calling my grandmother to determine exactly what that random thing was. I'm considering becoming a vegetarian. My grandmother also doesn't know what it is, but promises her own grandmother swore by them, to but hair on your chest. Hmmmmmmmmmm. Perhaps next year Tofurkey?