Used to be that we ate turkey twice a year, at Thanksgiving and Christmas, both times roasted and stuffed. Nowadays, turkey, often processed to mimic beef or pork, has become daily fare, mundane. This year, no turkey for me. I’m not traveling to family or friends out of town or around the corner. Not carefully balancing warm casseroles of macaroni or sweet potatoes on the way to a communal dinner with friends. In place of my physical presence I have sent what contribution I could to help provide meals for a few of the millions of Americans who are hungry.

This year I’m staying home for dinner, creating my own rituals. If I get all my errands run today as planned, I have no intention of leaving the house tomorrow. Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow. Me, I’ll be inside assembling my first ever lobster pot pie from a recipe by the Foot Network’s Barefoot Contessa, cracking shell and picking lobster meat for the filling, struggling to master a crust that is deliciously short and also manageable, listening to music I love and the voices of loved ones no longer here in my head.

After dinner, a long walk by the river in a city oddly silenced by this holiday in which I can hear more than see the emptiness, the traces of people gone elsewhere. Back home, a cup of good tea, lazy conversation, perhaps a movie. Eyes bigger than my stomach and trying to leave well enough alone, I will fight the call to overeat and sleep. Resist the coming of the day after with it’s noise and challenges.

Jill Nelson 11/25/09 – The blog with the musical notes!