Happy Thanksgiving, Rio Ranchoans. You’ve been getting ready for this day ever since Halloween and it’s finally here. It has been all over the television, in numerous commercials with the turkey on the table, the children all polished and dressed, the pies looking so scrumptious, the pumpkin spice air fresheners. I just bought my turkey yesterday. I decided to buy it the day before so I didn’t have to stare at it all week and build up my anxiety to cook the perfect bird. I was mildly worried there may not be any fresh turkeys available and I would have to serve that overly preserved frozen turkey breast from a box again.

When family comes together, everything is perfect, right? Or at least that is what we all believe based on tradition and our obscured memory of holidays gone by. With Thanksgiving here, plans are in place, tensions are on the rise with house guests and family members descending upon us.

For some reason, this holiday generates more stories than one can imagine. Maybe it is because tradition dictates everything has to be perfect; the house spotless, the turkey moist, the desserts to die for and on and on. Well, being human we all know that it just doesn’t always happen that way.

A friend of mine was cooking a turkey for her extended family which that year included a one year old nephew; in other words, a hungry child. The turkey’s built-in timer button had failed to eject at the anticipated hour and stomachs were growling. After the basket of rolls, the cheese platter and all the side dishes were consumed, no one was hungry when the turkey came out of the oven two hours later than expected. They stood around eating pumpkin pie and drinking coffee while staring at the golden brown butter ball cooling on the stove. Needless to say, they had plenty of cold turkey sandwiches over the next few days. The day only got worse. Their after-dinner tradition was to watch the movie Scrooged with Bill Murray; but when the tape failed to materialized, they were all forced to sit around and actually talk to each other! Can you imagine?

My dad, who owned a bakery for many years, was always in charge of baking the holiday pies. One year he made a delicious chocolate cream pie complete with the sculpted whipped cream topping; something he would have been proud to show Martha Stewart. Everyone had their eye on that pie, including dad’s German Shepard, Max. When no one was looking, the dog quietly helped himself to his share of the pie. Mom saved the day. She soothed dad’s deflated ego and served a Mrs. Smith’s frozen pumpkin pie.

Yes, Thanksgiving dinner is true glutton city. Once dessert is consumed, everyone moves to the living room to get comfortable as the tryptophan kicks in. So many of us are overcome by that lazy, lethargic feeling at the conclusion of this festive meal, right? As widespread lore has it, this amino acid in the turkey induces sleepiness, making those who partake of the bird unusually drowsy. Rather it is more likely due to the combination of over eating a carbohydrate-rich banquet and indulging in grandpa’s homemade wine. Or it could be that extra piece of pie. It’s a nice excuse, but in reality we overeat and we know it.

Don’t get too comfortable. Go for a walk, a bike ride, or maybe even go back in the kitchen and clean up. It won’t take long, its just paper plates, isn’t it? You didn’t use the good china, did you?

Quote of the Week: “No, Max. No!” -Dan Lechner, Jennifer’s dad upon seeing his dog help himself to dessert on Thanksgiving day, 1984.