I am not a terrible cook. But I also very-likely won’t exceed your expectations. I’m good enough. I know how to season just right and how to sneak the vegetables in the kids’ food so that they find them to be a delicious priority. I know how long to cook the rice, and that the salmon always taste a little bit better with a squeeze of lemon. In the summer, I’ve become a pro at berry pies, but will undoubtedly grab a frozen crust to save myself from unnecessary pressures. But more than knowing all of that, I know that for me and my friends and family, mood always takes first place.
I’m not sure where I read about this topic last week (Update: it was Jenny). It was in-between scrolling, or a daily round of newsletters and blogs I keep up with. But despite not knowing the source, I felt this hell yeah ring through my body. And that hell yeah is something I want to remind myself (and you) as we embark on our relative ambitious schedules for the next week or so.
This weekend, about a dozen people will roll through my home, starting and ending half conversations, they’ll eye the cranberry sauce, and stuff themselves silly with mashed potatoes. I hope they eat. More than that, I hope they dance. With that in mind, I’ve curated the music playlist, counted the wooden chairs, and mapped out how to arrange them against the wall so that bodies move with ease. The wine is ordered and my couch was just cleaned. I feel like a well-oiled adult.
That is, a well-oiled adult that very well may burn a dish (God, I hope not), but makes sure that her friends and family at least enjoy laughing at it.
What’s your Thanksgiving motto?
