Turkey Time & Helping Others Get Blogging

Every Thanksgiving, I get the same song stuck in my head:

Maybe it’ll be stuck in your head too now. Thanks a lot to my sister, who likes to sing this song as loudly as possible.

After helping make sweet potato pie, and eating a lot, and talking, I spent the rest of my Thanksgiving evening helping a fabulous 62-year-old I met tonight create a blog. She has a lot of opinions and learned how to use Skype recently, so I wrote out a step-by-step guide and we practiced posting a couple times.

Spreading the writing love, y’all! What’d you do this Turkey Time? Do your grandparents blog or tweet or facebook?

A Thanksgiving Poem: Max Coots’ A Harvest of People

As it’s Thanksgiving week here in the US of A, I’m sharing a Max Coots poem I heard today. It’s fitting for this week: food and friends and the way time gallops by sometimes and creeps by other times.

A HARVEST OF PEOPLE

Let us give thanks for a bounty of people.

For children who are our second planting, and though they
grow like weeds and the wind too soon blows them away, may
they forgive us our cultivation and fondly remember where
their roots are.

Let us give thanks;

For generous friends with hearts and smiles as bright
as their blossoms;

For feisty friends, as tart as apples;

For continuous friends, who, like scallions and cucumbers,
keep reminding us that we’ve had them;

For crotchety friends, sour as rhubarb and as indestructible;

For handsome friends, who are as gorgeous as eggplants and
as elegant as a row of corn, and the others, as plain as
potatoes and so good for you;

For funny friends, who are as silly as Brussels sprouts and
as amusing as Jerusalem artichokes;

And serious friends as unpretentious as cabbages, as subtle
as summer squash, as persistent as parsley, as delightful as
dill, as endless as zucchini and who, like parsnips, can be
counted on to see you through the winter;

For old friends, nodding like sunflowers in the evening-time,
and young friends coming on as fast as radishes;

For loving friends, who wind around us like tendrils and hold
us, despite our blights, wilts and witherings;

And finally, for those friends now gone, like gardens past
that have been harvested, but who fed us in their times that
we might have life thereafter.

For all these we give thanks.

Max Coots

 

Preparing for Thanksgiving in Colombia: Recipes Request

Last week I had the brilliant idea to joke about celebrating Thanksgiving here, at my coworker’s apartment. I was imagining something simple, just us and the cats watching a historically accurate rendition of American history:

Your people will have stickshifts.

Instead, the idea of celebrating Thanksgiving after work next Thursday has caught on and now there are five of us. Have I mentioned I don’t cook? My family has spent some Thanksgivings in restaurants. Most of my Thanksgiving knowledge is from the Pepper Ann episode where all the shelves are empty and people are fighting over the last yam. I don’t even really know what a yam is. The Thanksgivings I remember spending at home involve my sister playing Turkey Time until everyone has it stuck in their head for weeks. (Fair warning about clicking that link.)

I’m worried we’ll end up eating Charlie Brown style:

This blockhead cooked all this.

I suppose this is the day to make lists of ingredients and start buying…yams? Any and all recipes are requested, as is advice on cooking times. How do I know when I’ve found the right turkey? Do I have to make stuffing? Is apple cake as culturally appropriate as apple pie? Help!