Countdown

Opening night is in 2 days. Curly is feeling a little under the weather. That's normal for tech week, though. It's a very stressful week. Hopefully he'll be feeling fine by the open.

I am getting so excited for Thanksgiving. I think it may be my favorite holiday. Growing up, we had a lot of traditions on this day. Every year, the boys played in the Turkey Bowl. Naturally, there had to be a letter from the Turkey Bowl Selection Committee. They were the funniest letters and marked the beginning of the festivities. Being a girl, I was not usually included in the letter. However, while on my mission, the Selection Committee thought I should get that little touch of home. We would then go out to Chicago to Grandma and Grandpa's house in Oak Brook. Dinner Wednesday night would be at Aunt Lisa's in Naperville. Sometimes Melly and I would stay overnight with our cousins. Breakfast the next morning would be either an instant breakfast or a black donut straight from the fridge. On Thanksgiving, I would watch the parade start to finish. Some family members would join me during the broadcast, but I think I was the only one to watch it all the way through. The different families would arrive at Grandma's house, dressed in their football gear. One or two would have eye black on, and we would all exclaim at their cleverness, even though the same thing happened every year. Next, pictures of the teams: Turkey Trotters and Just Plain Turkeys. We would then have our own mini-parade, crossing the street to the "football field." Amid the goose droppings, the men would play. It was always taken VERY seriously. Whoever won would gloat, whoever lost would pout. The women would dutifully watch from the sidelines, calling out encouragement or jeers, always freezing. Sometimes the girl cousins would bring pompoms and try to cheer, but it ways always short lived due to the temperature. Back in we would go, the men would shower and change into their Thanksgiving finery, and the eating would commence. Grandpa would make kielbasa, Grandma would make veggies and dips. Everyone would drink Diet Coke. In fact, the outside fridge was so stocked full of beverages of moderation that we never ran out. Thanksgiving dinner was a feast. Turkey, roasted by Grandma, carved by Grandpa; peas; rolls; cranberry sauce, complete with can lines; sweet potato casserole; the best mashed potatoes and gravy; and jello salad that sat on a piece of iceburg lettuce. After the dinner and clean up, the men would watch football in the den and the women would stitch and gab in the living room. After our food had set for a bit, it was time for Bingo. Grandpa would call the game, "farty far," and we would play a round until everyone won and got to choose from the prize basket. Then there was pie. And more Diet Coke.

I miss Thanksgivings in Chicago. I am so glad Grandma and Grandpa will be heading back east for the festivities and that the whole Lee clan will be there. New place, old traditions. Anyone feel like reorganizing the Selection Committee?