It’s Turkey day in the US. Day of canned cranberry jelly wobbling in a plate (God, I hate that stuff. Much as I like cranberries, I can hardly force myself to eat that goo, especially when it’s sitting there with the can still imprinted on it. – insert dramatic shudder here – Actually I’m not big on aspics or Jell-o in general).
Our Thanksgiving was long ago, the second weekend in October, and it’s never as big a thing as in the US, well in Quebec at least, I don’t know about the rest of Canada.
The big thing for typtophanatics in Quebec is Christmas. Same meal: turkey, stuffing, cranberry goo. Throw in a ham, change around the desserts and you have the same food coma except there’s a tree in the living room and no football to watch.
But at least the holiday madness starts a bit later. Thankfully. I’m very much the Scrooge sort when it comes to the hols. If I could simply disappear as soon as they start, I’d be a happy, or at any rate happier, person. It’s the cynic in me. It seems the older I get, the more annoying the whole thing becomes.
Where did the magic go?
I guess growing up and having to provide the damn magic yourself makes it that much less magical.
I’m going nowhere with this, right?
For the record, I hate Thanksgiving. Blogs are there for my entertainment. A good portion of those I read are American. The American blogosphere is in a food coma today, so I am sorely lacking in entertainment.
Y’all better have horrible tales of Thanksgiving madness for me in the days to come or I will be very very angry.