Thanksgiving Rewarmed: A Bird's Eye View

Surprise!
I didn't write this post!

Recently I've read several blog posts written by a 'guest writer'.
When my niece asked me if I'd like her to man my camera on our 'Thanksgiving day revisited', I was happy to hand it over.  After all, when I'm busy trying to coordinate getting all the food finished & set out and doing the required hostess duties I find it difficult to get all the pictures I'd like. Then the idea occurred to me that it would be fun just to have her write my blog post from her perspective.

Here you go--Straight from the mouth & eye of The Prairie Hen. 
Thank you Raimie! 

Love,
Auntie Em

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(updated 12/15 -- too many typing errors... just in case you actually thought I know everything! Ha!)

Dear Readers,

We are a strange family.

I mean, how many Thanksgivings do you have in a year?

Just the one? Boy are you missing out!

We like Thanksgiving so much that sometimes if the mood hits we have two.

This year was one of those years where everyone flew the coop and went off in different directions for the actual Holiday. That seems to be happening more often as the years go by… As children grow up, get married, have babies… and suddenly there are in-laws to share the day with, babies to get sick, longer treks to get home and so forth.

Has that happened in your family? What gives?

How dare these young rap-scallions come up with ideas and notions of their own on where they will be for Thanksgiving? The scandal! The outrage! The injusti---

What? Me? Oh, yeah! I AM one of those hooligans!
I have been known to follow odd whims… I take off to parts unknown with my family to have Thanksgiving with people who I’ve never met before… in their home where I’ve never been… People I became friends with over the Internet.

I’m pretty much the epitome of the sort of scoundrels have gone and messed-up the way Thanksgivings used to be.

So we recreated it for the sake of remembering how they once were…
That’s what my Auntie Em decided, planned and pulled-off.

 

(This was the invitation)

A second Thanksgiving Day.
A second day to give thanks for family, friends, and FOOD.

In December.Novel idea, eh?
Here’s a peek…

 

First off, I wanna say that I love my Auntie Lu’s country house, the whole place actually. Mr. Loggerhead and I almost lived there for a while and we were married in the barn. I chased chickens, watched my cousin ride his goat, slept in the haymow, and giggled with my girl-cuz’s late into the night at this place. I think a bit of my heart has seeped out and has lodged itself in the rustic wood and country charm of my Auntie’s 'farm'.

I’m so glad my Auntie Em and her family are living there now.
Now it’s My Auntie’s House twice over.

Auntie Em has a knack with Autumn décor. Her halls were decked all right! (Oh, wait! I guess that's Christmas... whatever!)

Even if it was frigid December outside. We were still in the grasp of Autumn’s colorful and blustery embrace once we stepped inside

There were places for everyone.

We missed the one’s who couldn't be there. It wasn’t quite the same without them.

We were thankful for the spots that were filled.

And for the people who filled them.

These are my people. Many have been a part of my world ever since I was born.

Here’s a little history for you...

My Grandmother, her parents, her good friends and their mutual set of nine children started the original Thanksgiving tradition--- No, not the Plymouth rock version with buckled shoes and  feathered head-dresses-- Our family’s version. Ours doesn't include loin-clothes.

It did involve eating (pretty typical) and poetry.

You aren’t hearing things, I said poetry.

Note: we’re talking in the literal sense here. Not, “The gravy pooled on my plate and beckoned me to drizzle another delectable drop into my already overflowing maw. The taste of the turkey with cranberry sauce was sheer poetry.”

No, like the POEM RECITATION kind of poetry.
Have you heard of that?

In the beginning they did it because they felt like many of the old, classic poems were practically dead to the younger generations and they wanted to change that. It continued because we are weird… Did I say that? I meant, because we are a poetic, reciting, rhyming, lyrical bunch.

-- Yes, OK, coulda’ just left it at weird.

Saturday’s festivities involved eating.
Here is where I excel.
That and sticking a camera (Auntie Em’s in this case) in everyone’s face.

The food was everything it should be for a sorta-Thanksgving… just different enough that we didn’t feel like we were eating left-over’s…

Just reminiscent enough to knock down the guilt barriers and allow us to get down to gobbler business with no shame. Thanksgiving comes but once a year-- errrrrrr... well, never-mind!

The crew was jolly and well-rounded despite missing a few faces. We were sad that an ice storm kept a few of our party from their planned arrival. We all ate extra portions in their honor.

We laughed.

We talked.

 We ate.
Does that sound about like your Thanksgiving?

Our's might have been slightly more American Gothic than yours.

Maybe?

--- Was your's this photogenic?

Yeesh!

Some people have ALL the luck.

How about this talented?

(Myself loudly excluded)

I can brag on them because they are so much more talented than I will ever be.

And one of them happens to be my littlest sister. It’s my job to be proud of her. Oh, and to mortally embarrass her on a regular basis. Everyone must have a purpose in life, right?

Did I mention that the girls severely out-numbered the boys?

And they matched (unplanned but very nice for pictures).

I imagine they looked like quite the herd of girly, giggling, female-ness descending on those poor boys… a red tidal wave of sugar and spice. They never knew what hit ‘em.

 My daughter was so pleased to have so many girls to play with. Her mama loved watching her enjoy herself…

She’s the bright flowery spot in my life, after all. Like those boys, her daddy still doesn’t know what hit him!

 Poem time came before pie. No poem, no pie.

OK, we’re not that strict… in fact, this year everyone read their poems instead of memorizing them. What slackers we are becoming!

These voices reach a place in me that was planted before I can even remember. Many of the poems have been said before, in other voices.

Sometimes they are funny, sometimes inspirational, often dedicated to people whom we have all loved-- like my great grandparents who are only with us in spirit now.

It was special to see my Bee saying her sweet little verse. She’s not as shy as I was at six… We said our piece in order from youngest to oldest, which put her first… I think I would have died.

Speaking of, I just about died laughing while we played Taboo. We aren’t a very quiet bunch of cousins. Ask my grandma, she’d tell ya.

Cousins are a special brand of friends and I’ve been blessed to have a lot of them… but Nathan… well, he’s a special brand of special.
 

These pictures pretty much say it all.

Between his antics and watching little Kaela behind him... My sides hurt after we were done playing.

And the baby? Well, here's the story of Pip's Re-Thanksgiving adventure:

PIP'S RE-THANKSGIVING ADVENTURE

Once upon a time there was a baby named Pip.

He went with his mommy and big sister to a Thanksgiving-ish party one December day.

He was hungry. So he asked for some food.

"Ma-ma eh-eh-eh"

His mother was good and kind. She made sure his plate was full.

Pip was a nice sort of baby and ate up all his food without making a fuss.

His mother gazed at him wondering where he came from and how she got so lucky.

Pip asked politely to get down once he was done.

His mother obliged. She was sweet like that.

After his leisurely nap he snuggled with his Nana. He was just thinking that Nana's must have been made for cuddling when he noticed that everyone was eating pie without him.

Where's mine?, He thought. With a mere, "Ma-ma eh-eh-eh" -- a piece appeared before him in all it's glory.

What a wonderful mama, he thought as he daintily forked the perfectly prepared pastry into his mouth.

Little boy Pipster sat in a corner eating his Thanksgiving-ish pie.

He ate all he had, it wasn't half bad,

 And said, what a good boy am I.

And they all lived happily ever after.

At least they did until the precious, angelic boy, on being removed from his highchair, promptly threw-up his once so-delectable pie all over his sweet and lovely Mama.

And that was the end of that.

Thank you Auntie Em and Uncle El for having us. It was really special to be together. 

Maybe next year we'll have THREE Thanksgivings.

Love,

A Prairie Hen Baked in A Pie 

(in NE)

P.S. My Auntie Em commemorated my recent golden birthday by giving me this sign.

What do you think? I'm taking it as a compliment. {wink}

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I'm Raimie Harrison, The Prairie Hen --- Mother, Mr. Loggerhead-lover, reader, writer, crafter, homeschooler, picture-taker, floor-scrubber, clothes-washer, coffee-drinker, friend-hugger, dog-petter.

Come visit my home on the prairie!