Thanksgiving Eve

My late-night companion Pandora is open on my work computer and I'm listening to Dave Matthews' acoustic version of "Gravedigger," hoping the line editor sitting next to me, though separated by a divider, isn't bothered by the sound of his scratchy-sexy voice. I've already asked him a few times if he minds and he insists he can't hear a thing. It's a whole different ball game when it's Monday nights and "The Bachelor" is on. I can't sit through it at home for 90 minutes so I watch it from a distance on the flat screen, tuning in for the last fifteen to see who Brad chose or devastated. It's then, over rejected girls bawling with tear-smeared makeup down to their chests a la Amy Winehouse, that I'm sure the line editor minds. Lucky for him, those days are over.

As a new friend reminded me on the phone earlier this afternoon, in my late-induced sweaty dash from the gym to work, it's Thanksgiving Eve. Oh yeah. With no airline tickets booked and no worries of last-minute packing to keep me distracted, I often forget it's a holiday. That and I thought I was the only one who acknowledged every holiday, whether it's July 4 or Labor Day, has its "eve." His "Gobble, gobble! Happy Thanksgiving Eve!" message woke me out of my sorry stupor with a smile.

When you work in the news and consequently most holidays, it's easy to forget what's come and gone. And like many Thanksgivings past, I will be here in the office tomorrow, living vicariously through friends and family, spending their days in the warmth of their homes, stuffing and holiday cocktails.

I had a good chuckle tonight when a co-worker used one of her many suspicious breaks to fetch liquor at the local wine store. Over her cackling laughter, she blurted, "I'm not taking any chances. I have to be loaded to celebrate Thanksgiving with my family!"

Maybe that's what I miss most about celebrating Thanksgiving -- being "loaded" with family. Unlike Christmas, Halloween and Easter, Thanksgiving is a day-long event. From the moment I wake up to the moment I fall asleep post-turkey trauma I am high on family, food, tradition, being in the home I spent two-thirds of my life in and even the occasional busted oven or kitchen brawl.

I love it when Dad comes into my room and wakes me up like I'm still in high school and have somewhere to be.

I love following the parade, miles away from Conn., on our little 12" x 12" kitchen soapbox.

I love watching the bow-legged Old English bulldogs battle the Bernese mountain dogs and St. Bernards for the title of "Best in Show."

I love laughing through "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation" like it's my first time. Every year I think Clark's going to get those lights working somehow.

I love no matter how many years I attempt a homemade stuffing recipe, nothing, nothing, nothing ever beats Pepperidge Farm stuffing, and nobody's shy to tell me so.

I love waking up with a mimosa, switching to a Bloody Mary and taking a few hours off before busting out my vermouth, blue cheese-stuffed olives and Grey Goose for a dirty martini.

I love sampling the many desserts my mom either ordered (apple pie, pumpkin pie) or made (cookie cake, cheesecake) and the many pounds of turkey she purchased from Mario in Ridgefield. He says 20-lb. bird for six people. She says 26-lb. giant for four.

I love hearing my Uncle's analysis of my "love life" and other life choices I've made or should make.

While these are a few of the things I'll miss tomorrow, these are also some of the things I am thankful for.

Tonight I gear up to celebrate Thanksgiving Eve with friends who are sticking around the city for the holidays, for reasons similar to my own. And with 32 minutes to spare, let me be the last to wish you a very Happy Thanksgiving Eve and the first a Happy Thanksgiving!

(to be continued...)