I love preparing the Thanksgiving meal. I love having some help with it as well, but love setting the table, selecting the wine, offering the cocktails, and spending a day or two cooking. But, when I'm on call I won't do it.
So this year, as in the last few, I fixed a broken hip and then we headed over to my wife's aunt and uncle's big farm. As expected, and worthy of the day, there was a mountain of food all taken off the prescription pad for Thanksgiving indulgence. It's disappointing not being able to do the meal at our house my own way but it's nice to have family to carry the torch.
Then comes Friday morning. I'll be back in the O.R. shortly and I am grateful to have nothing to look forward to: No load after load of dishes to do. No greased up roasting pan to scrub clean. No collection of china and stemware to hand dry and put away. No refrigerator full of left overs that seem like such a wonderful bonus day one-- only to turn into an unnavigable collection of half-filled containers by day three.
Next year I'm off for Thanksgiving and so will probably be here manning the kitchen. For now, I'll just plan on a peanut butter sandwich for lunch and, maybe, Mexican for dinner.
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