Thanksgiving 09

For the 2nd time in our four Novembers in New Paltz, we had Thanksgiving up at our house. Two years ago, we had a less-coordinated effort that still came off pretty well but was nowhere near as much fun as this go-round. It helped that we added "Beatles Rock Band" to the festivities, in keeping with the early settlers and their native American benefactors who, as we all learned in social studies class, played with beetles and rocks and wore (head)bands. Maybe not, but still, I strongly recommend Rock Band for all family situations, funerals included.

Before and after the music, there was a meal. 14 people filled our smallish dining room, requiring us to tilt the table 45 degrees (that is to say, it was diagonal) and to add side tables on either end, trapping window-side guests. Shirra cooked nearly everything we ate for the dinner -- and all of it was delicious -- tho all of the groups of guests contributed comestibles. My brother and his wife favored us with some amazing items from Trader Joe's, and my mom made two tasty sweet potato pies; Shirra's brother and his wife toted along some string beans for the meal as well as some crudite and dips. I ate more in that afternoon than in any three other days of the year.

THE BALLOONS. THOSE FRIGGIN' BALLOONS
And once again, we avoided NYC. Thanks to the circus that the balloon-inflation has turned into, there are sidewalk closures, late-night noise, and a few other hassles that easily outweigh the mild thrill of seeing the huge balloons being blown up just outside my old block. When I was a kid, it was bad enough that John and I would hear marching bands warming up at 6am outside our window (14 floors below), but in recent years, people have come out in droves much as they do for the lighting of the huge Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center. The difference is that at least with the tree, what little thrill there is, it's quickly over -- basically as soon as the tree is lit up for the first time. But with the balloons, people mill past all day as if they're excited about watching helium slowly fill up a large piece of fabric. In fact, seeing Dora the Explorer with only her head and limbs inflated might be quite distressing to a little kid and is certainly pretty boring to anyone else.

I guess that people think it's cool to see the balloons in their pre-parade state as if they're catching a dress rehearsal of a big musical, but as I know from personal experience, there is quite a difference between seeing Sweeny Todd before opening night and glimpsing a flaccid Pillsbury Doughboy.