The Great Pie Gathering

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, for which Himself has mocked me for the almost nine years we've known each other. He thinks it's silly to have a favorite holiday that is just about eating (and giving thanks, but he doesn't ever mention that part). It shouldn't be a surprise that a holiday about food is my favorite - especially since the preparation for the holiday and the leftovers are far better than the actual meal itself.

This year, for the first time in seven years, I am having Thanksgiving with my family. This will be Himself's first year celebrating The Great Feast with my family.

I'm not sure when it started, but at some point, Thanksgiving became a contest to see how many pies could be consumed during the four-day holiday. Unable to hold themselves back, my dad and uncle always start in on the pies the night before Thanksgiving, to the great consternation of the women (whose role it seems is to preserve one's appetite for The Great Feast over which they have been laboring - even if only in their minds - for months).

There is ALWAYS more than enough pie to go around, yet, in a great race to ensure that one gets pie before the men eat it all, slices begin magically disappearing the moment the first guests begin stirring Thanksgiving morning. Usually a couple of pies are gone before The Great Feast even begins. Perhaps this is the reason that it is a family "necessity" to have at least as many pies as people - whether or not said "people" are old enough to consume pie (for instance, this year, Baby Girl gets counted in the "people" category - meaning the pie count will be upped by one).

I didn't realize the madness surrounding all of this (it's quite normal when one grows up expecting there to be a massive amount of pies at Thanksgiving) until Himself stopped me last week while I was reciting the food assignments.

"Are we eating anything but pie?"
"Of course!"
"All you've mentioned is pie - and the fact we're supposed to bring two of your key lime pies and another pie of our choosing. Who is bringing the food?"

It was at that point I realized that food had not yet entered the food assignment conversations. Last night I phoned my parents to see what else I needed to bring besides three pies (it works out that you typically get assigned to bring one pie per member of your household attending The Great Feast). This year, the first year he is hosting at his new home with his new wife, my uncle is in charge (a bad sign, and probably the reason only pies had been discussed thus far). Dad said, "I don't know - your mom and uncle were discussing it earlier today, let me put her on."

Good news. The women are usually the only reason The Great Feast Happens - not for lack of help on the men's part, but more out of lack of caring if there is anything but pie for the holiday.

So I asked, "Mom - what are we supposed to bring besides pies?"

*Crickets*

"Mom, please tell me that you talked about more than who was bringing what pies!"

*Crickets* Then, "Well, we did finalize who was bringing what pies."

I related the conversation to Himself when I got off the phone. We laughed. He said, "You should bring your fabulous homemade macaroni and cheese."

I told him I would be the laughing stock of my family if I showed up with that - macaroni and cheese is not considered "real food," no matter if it is homemade or out of a blue box.

He countered with, "At least we'll know there is food."

This year's Great Feast might just end up being The Great Pie Gathering. And you know what? It's okay by us. Himself won't have to eat turkey and the women won't have to drive each other mad cooking dinner in someone else's kitchen.

Regardless, Thanksgiving will still remain my favorite holiday.