In Which She Ruined the Holiday for Her Family

In the spirit of joining in, when we received an invitation to join another family for Thanksgiving, I readily accepted.

We worked out the menu on the phone and briefly discussed what time both families preferred to eat.

She offered to meet us in the middle.

I accepted in a way I hoped was gracious.

She called me back.

It seems that when she told her family what time the meal would be served, they felt that there was no way they could feel thankful at such an ungodly hour of the day. She asked if we could move.

Taken aback, I agreed to their typical time, and got off the phone.

My family, of course, began to yell.

I emailed Mickey at work.

His response was, similarly to the children, that this was a disaster of near Biblical proportions.

In my heart, I felt the same way.


I am writing a blog post at 7 a.m. on Thanksgiving morning.

Still having not made the food.

And having no plan for Thanksgiving Breakfast or Lunch.  Since we usually eat turkey for lunch on this day, I don’t typically make a big breakfast.

The only idea we could come up with was for me to do the whole shebang at home and ALSO provide half the meal for dinner across town.  And when I say we, I mean people who don’t cook their brains out from 5a.m. to noon and then expect to rest the rest of the day.

People who have all morning to shower and don’t notice if there is one person at the table in their yoga pants and stained sweatshirt.

People who don’t do everything else half-assed all year and show up this one day and pour out all that pent up…usefulness.

People who have not mentioned Thanksgiving in any way since I agreed to the change.  And who have not offered to help or expressed any interest in the preparations.

It should never have been changed in the first place.  They invited us to their home.  Their culture.  Their Thanksgiving.  We should have gone in expecting to do it their way.  It was the change that offended her family and offended mine.  I think that if I had said, “We’re going to the [ friends’] house and they eat around [bedtime].  What would you like to do before that?”  It wouldn’t have been so impactful.

Deep lessons in gratitude, coming right up.  Get ’em while they’re hot.





  1. I had one uncle that worked shift work growing up so we always ate around his schedule. Since doing it on my own we normally do lunch (because David’s dad doesn’t like to drive at night), but I can really do any time. I’m not sure why it would matter. You’ve got turkey. You’ve got sweet potatoes. You’ve got dressing/stuffing. What difference does it make what time you eat?


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