On Abundance

Some more things about food, yay! If you don't want to read about food over and over again, maybe check back here in January. That's probably not safe, either. I just really like eating. Consider yourself warned.

Mike did most of our shopping this morning, and we're in really good shape for the holiday. Go team us! It's funny that I've come to embrace a traditional Thanksgiving menu, because it doesn't really reflect the foods of my youth. My mother's family is Italian, and so the centerpieces for any holiday were (and still are) homemade manicotti, lasagna, gnocchi, meatballs, you get the picture. There was always a token ham or turkey and a few half-hearted sides, but holiday food--when I spend them at "home"--means red sauce. So it's weird I guess that I'm all about the American-style spread (still, the turkey is my personal least favorite part of the meal, I'm a sides-junkie all the way). I guess there's something to be said for growing up and making your own traditions. But maybe it's not so random that my day-after-TG date includes dinner at the restaurant that makes my favorite bolognese. Now that I think of it, elastic waist pants are probably not going to cut it. Maybe I packed away those roomy maternity frocks too soon?

I don't know if you know this about me, but I'm contrarian by nature. I don't like to be told what to do, and I hate the notion of giving up things. If I see one more "healthy ways to indulge at the holidays" article, I might start getting punchy. You don't want to see me punchy, I'm weak and it's pathetic. And don't even get me started on guilt as it applies to food. Guilt is a useless emotion that sometimes can't be avoided (I'm trying to keep from adding an instrument to the guilt hootenanny that is parenthood, with moderate success), and I'm loath to impose the concept on something so innocuous as food. Of course that's a very loaded topic that I won't get into just now. Just know that even when I'm not inhabiting the universally chow-down friendly states of being pregnant or breastfeeding (I thought pregnant at the holidays was THE bomb but it turns out that nursing-at-the-holidays trumps it because it's gotten me back to my low pre-preg weight without really trying--meaning more room in the pants--plus there's the added bonus this year of a little festive cocktailing), I still think life is too short to not eat all the kinds of pie if that's what you really want to do. No qualifiers. Just do it, and own it.

Trust me, I'm well aware that getting to spout these obnoxiously self-righteous things about excess belies the ways in which I am privileged. Again, another topic for another day.

But today: food + holidays = love. Tomorrow: a Thankful list.