I certainly have a lot to be thankful for this year. My new baby, my job, our house, our great life, the fact that BYU had a winning season and is going to a bowl game (bless you, Eastern Illinois!). For the first time in my life today we had a Thanksgiving gathering at MY house. Not just the house where I live--that's been done before (though not recently). This was the first time in my life that I have been the owner of the Thanksgiving venue. It was kind of a great experience. Of course, I deflected all the responsibility that comes with that status and asked my father in law to say the Thanksgiving prayer.

Here are some random Thanksgiving-related thoughts.

I'll get into this topic in more detail in later posts as the Christmas season progresses, I'm sure, but with regard to today's festivities, I'm surprised that Thanksgiving is still a politically correct holiday. The word "Christmas," as we all know, and as I everlastingly deplore, has become taboo, for fear that someone might explode into a rage of offendedness at the mere mention of the name of a celebration whose roots are partially tied to a belief system that they're not a part of. But why isn't the same true of Thanksgiving? After all, the whole concept of Thanksgiving presumes a belief in Someone to whom we can give thanks. And not everyone believes in a God. Therefore, we shouldn't talk about Thanksgiving, should we?

My father-in-law was appalled that there was no cranberry sauce planned for our dinner today. In fact, he sent my sister-in-law to the grocery store this morning to go get some so he could have it (pity the poor grocery store employees on Thanksgiving morning). When she returned with it, the question arose of who all was going to eat it. I wasn't. Shelly wasn't. Shelly's mom and sister weren't. We were expecting Shelly's cousin and his wife for dinner, and my father-in-law asked if they liked cranberry sauce. I told him that although no one had ever directly asked them about it, you could count on the fact that they don't like cranberry sauce based simply on the fact that they are of our generation. And when they showed up, sure enough, they said they didn't like cranberry sauce. I'm interested to know if there's anyone out there under the age of, say, 40, who actually likes cranberry sauce. I'm also interested to know if there's anyone in that age group who has ever even seriously tasted cranberry sauce. I know I don't, and I haven't.

That silly Adam Sandler Thanksgiving song has been on the radio a lot the past couple of days. It's really, really stupid. "Let's eat the turkey in my big brown shoe"? Come on! Yet it gets airtime because radio stations want to be a little Thanksgiving-y, and it's the only choice out there. As we were preparing apple pies last night, I suggested facetiously that we all start singing some Thanksgiving carols. No one could think of anything better than "We Gather Together to Ask the Lord's Blessing," or "Over the River and Through the Woods." The latter song is particularly puzzling, because it doesn't actually say anything specific about Thanksgiving (at least not that I can remember). It just talks about going to Grandmother's house. If it weren't for the reference to a sleigh, it could take place in June. Someone needs to write a good Thanksgiving song and get Adam Sandler off the air. Doesn't that babyish voice of his just make you want to kick him?

When you think of Thanksgiving, you think of pie. When you think of Thanksgiving pie, you think mainly of apple pie and pumpkin pie. My family always liked to have banana cream pie around too. But Shelly's family (and Shelly in particular) has an even better tradition: chocolate pie. Shelly is very proud to tell anyone that it was always her responsibility (or her voluntary contribution) to make the chocolate pie for Thanksgiving every year, and while everyone always talked about the apple pie and the pumpkin pie, it was the chocolate pie that always got devoured first. Well, this year her mother one-upped Shelly. She pulled out a chocolate-peanut butter pie recipe and made that, while Shelly made her plain chocolate pie. We also made two apple pies (we foregoed (forewent?) the pumpkin pie). Guess what happened? The chocolate-peanut butter pie was inhaled. A couple of slices of apple pie were eaten. And as of this writing no one has even touched the plain chocolate pie. Moral of the story: though traditional pies sound good and make for good Thanksgiving pageantry, it is always the most decadent pie that gets eaten first.