Reading: Disappearing Moon Cafe, which I finished today. It had a strong start, but ultimately I was disappointed in this multi-generational saga of a Chinese-Canadian family. The shifts back and forth in time disrupted the narrative flow, and the resolution of the family conflicts was unconvincing.

Grateful for: Tab, who did all the cleanup from Thanksgiving dinner so that I could go take a nap.

Turkey Day

Beep. Beep. Beep. I awoke in the early morning hours to a regular, insistent beeping. I raised my sleep-fogged head from the pillow and tried to determine what it was. Did Daniel accidentally set his alarm clock? Was it the carbon monoxide detector? I couldn't tell.

I woke Tab up. He listened to it for a few seconds and then identified it as the emergency backup on the surge protector for my computer downstairs. "The power's off," he said. Up until then I hadn't noticed that the overhead fan was still and the white noise machine was quiet.

Fortunately our electricity was only off for about an hour. I was already anticipating how much fun it would be to try to cook today's dinner with no power.

I spent most of the day in the kitchen preparing for the annual rite of gluttony known as Thanksgiving. It was a solo endeavor since the boys can't provide much assistance yet. Even if they were old enough to be more help than hindrance, there really is no room in our kitchen for more than one person to work comfortably. I hope our next house will have a spacious kitchen so I can have a small army of helpers for future Thanksgivings.

Periodically, the boys would wander into the kitchen to keep me company and watch the preparations.

"What are you doing now, Mama?" Matthew asked.

"Washing the turkey."

Stephen picked up the ball of cotton twine. "What's this for?"

"Trussing the turkey. See?" I cut off a length of twine and tied the legs together, wrapping it around the back and the wing joints, and tying them in place.

"Why do you do that, Mama?"

"So he can't run away!"

Stephen looked up, momentarily startled, then broke into a grin. Then Daniel entered with one of his cars, and the boys begin playing noisily. I shooed them all out.

Tab watched the Macys parade in the morning. Every year he tries to get the boys to watch it with him, and every year he is disappointed that they only watch for a little while before running off to play. They did hang around to see the balloon representation of Blue the dog from Blue's Clues.

I had never cooked a Thanksgiving meal before we had the twins. We used to go to dinner at our relatives': first to Tab's cousin's house where his family gathered and then to my aunt's house to eat with my family. When Stephen and Matthew came along, I decided it was time to start making our own Thanksgiving dinner. Besides, this way I get to have leftovers.

The most difficult part of the meal is pulling it all together at the end and getting the dishes to the table while they are still warm. While most of the side dishes can be made ahead of time, the gravy has to wait until the turkey is done, and the mashed potatoes are better if made just before eating. So for the last few minutes before dinner, I am a hectic whirlwind of activity until I can finally sit down at the table and heave a sigh of relief. Done for another year!

All my work is wasted on the boys. Stephen tries a little of everything, but only really likes the corn and the roll. Daniel will eat only a little turkey with gravy. Matthew refuses everything and wants only dry cereal, so he has a bowl of Cheerios for his Thanksgiving repast. Ah, well. It won't always be that way, I'm sure.

In fact, I like to think that in the years ahead, Thanksgiving will become one of the boys' favorite holidays. I have a friend, a man in his early forties, who brings his wife and children back to his parents' house every year for Thanksgiving and Christmas. I hope that my sons will feel the same way about coming back to our house for holidays when they are grown.

After Tab had cleaned up from dinner, we went to my aunt's house for dessert. Up until the last minute, I wasn't sure if I wanted to go. This was the first Thanksgiving without my grandmother, and I was dreading her absence. I shouldn't have worried: Nana was still there. She was present in my aunt, whom we've nicknamed Nana Jr. because she makes everyone as welcome in her house as Nana used to. And Nana was there in my other aunts, who sat around the table over their tea, talking and laughing until the tears came to their eyes. All I had to do was look around the room at Nana's children and grandchildren and great grandchildren, and I could see Nana everywhere.

And that is what I am most grateful for this Thanksgiving.

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