Mnah, mnah-mnah mnah nah!

Our Thanksgiving was better than yours. I know that’s technically not the point of Thanksgiving.

Yeah, I know you think you LIKE turkey on Thanksgiving. But what if I told you (sorry Grandma, I LOVE YOU!!!) that the most delicious Thanksgiving I ever had was this year; another goth, wiccan, belly-dancing, tribal drumming, vegan Thanksgiving in Santa Cruz.

Look, I’ve had plenty of Thanksgivings to be grateful for. I love my extended family. Most of my childhood Thanksgiving memories are my Grandma Frances cooking the traditional turkey with her own English twist on “pearled onions”, while making the kids’ table special with foil-wrapped chocolate mini-turkeys.

I remember the sound of the geese flying south over my Grandma’s in Encino, while my Grandpa told stories, and us kids tried to bash each others’ knuckles while hurling pool balls at each others’ flinching hands across the table.

I also remember circus-like family football games in The Valley, looking at the moon in the big telescope, and the excitement of Disneyland “the Monday after Thanksgiving” when we had an illicit day out of school with no lines in Wonderland.

I hope my kids get to put themselves well beyond just memories. I hope, like me, they always recall how their parents and grandparents took time to thank the universe for whatever gave us good food, medicine, and the peace to enjoy ourselves as a family.

We spent the day with Jack’s family. Not that spending the day with my family is bad, but there’s a special place on this planet called Santa Cruz, where the food delicious and vegan, the sound is rock-and-roll and tribal drumming, the company is hippie, rocker and goth, the weather is a balmy 67 degrees in late November, and the activity is hula hooping.

I’m off to Mexico for a mama-only yoga retreat which is actually a “gratitude retreat”, so I expect I’ll come back a bit less smug about my Thanksgiving after meditating for an extended period in a solar powered vegetarian retreat in the desert. No phones! No news! No crying kids. (I’m worried to death that I’ll miss the crying kids terribly, and worse yet, that they’ll be missing me.)

Let’s keep it down to earth this holiday season people. (Famous last words by uber extreme planner Allison.)

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