Touchy was mewling a minute ago. Now he is lying on the floor with his paws in the air and his plump furry white tummy exposed, having exhausted himself playing with his catnip-stuffed fishie toy.

Anyway, Thanksgiving came and went. I am fairly ambiguous about this most North American of holidays; while I appreciate the time off (four whole days, put together!), I don't have a lot of sentimental attachment to the concept. I'm sure that I must have had some celebration of Thanksgiving as a child, but I truly don't remember any. I clearly recall Christmas, New Year, and Easter holidays, and even some July 4th parties with some other US expats, but Thanksgiving draws a blank for me. I do remember enjoying such times with the family in the US during high school, but after Grandma and Grandpa passed away, they seemed less special. Now, my ideal Thanksgiving Day would involve solitude, a good book in a warm spot, and some freshly-made Kraft macaroni and cheese; for these things I would be truly thankful! In reality, however, I have to take what I can get.

Jeff and I hosted the event at our new house, and the Feely clan (Debbie and Jerry; Olaf and Rosalee; Rob and Candace) were in attendance. We spent the morning and afternoon cleaning and setting up the house and yard (I dug a few holes). My wonderfully insightful husband realized soon after our marriage that Deb's idea of Thanksgiving dinner was along the lines of Everybody Make Your Own Peanut Butter Sandwich and Leave the Dirty Knife in the Sink When You're Done, and so he has never pressured me to be involved in elaborate and traditional food preparation. He roasted an excellent turkey our first Thanksgiving together. This year, he thoughtfully arranged for his mom and his grandmother to bring several side dishes, and he himself did the (huge) turkey and stuffing again. I just sat around and attempted to be pleasant, and refrained from uttering dark and foreboding commentary on: gluttony, Demeter and/or pagan harvest and fertility rituals, and/or the implicit glorification of the Euro-centric oppressors' eventual betrayal of the indigenous people. Because of my exemplary behavior, I didn't even have to do the dishes afterward. I was so tired at the end of the evening. Cleaning and being polite always take a lot out of me, probably because, as far as I can determine, neither of them come naturally to me.

I got an opportunity to reflect once again on how different my family is from Jeff's. Thanksgiving with my family would be a bit wild and crazy. Conversation would be lively, continuous, and occasionally controversial, featuring much opining and reminiscing about things that nobody but we would find even comprehensible, and at some point during the meal, at least one person's silverware (or even entire plate) would be removed from the table and hidden somewhere, to the amusement of everyone except the victim, of course. The food is excellent and yummy, and there is probably some experimental dish, as well as food made expressly for anyone with unusual needs, such as vegetarian preference or following of Jewish dietary law. After the feast, we'd engage in some noisy and competitive game-playing, most likely Scrabble, and then eat pie (I'd probably bemoan the fact that my pastry crusts are always tough, and my pie-queen mom would assure me that the trick is to use REALLY COLD WATER and handle it barely at all). After the pie, we'd retire to the family room to do some traditional holiday activity like watching the Animaniacs Christmas special or listening to Stan Freberg's "Green Christmas" recording. There'd be knitting, tea and coffee, and a classic movie to top it off.

By contrast, the Feely Thanksgiving is extremely genteel. I have it on good authority that controversy is strictly frowned upon, and so conversation hovers just barely to the right of discussing the weather. [God bless Candace for managing to be charming and interesting without raising a single eyebrow!] The food is predictably high in quality and absent of innovation. I'm guessing that there will ALWAYS be Jell-O, in one form or another. After eating, everyone sits around, and people might speak quietly for a time if the silence gets too deafening. Competition is probably strictly frowned upon, so, no games. There is some talk of watching a movie, but no one quite decides to do it (I'm guessing that asserting one's entertainment preferences is strictly frowned upon). After a particularly awkward silence, someone decides it is time for pie. The pie is generally tasty, and after that, everyone goes home to feel good about the giving of thanks. People are very kind and helpful about cleaning up and stuff, so it's quite pleasant to be the host of such a celebration.

If/when Jeff and I have children, I wonder what kind of family environment we'll create, and how our traditional celebrations will turn out. Will we meld what we've each received from our respective families? Will we come up with something completely different?