The start of the season

It is hard to believe Thanksgiving is less than a week away. Next week at this time King will be zoned out in front of the TV watching yet another episode of "Travel down the Gridiron." My eyes will be glazed over and I'll be counting the hours until I can actually GO to work, where--  if they can get the cable fixed -- the sports desk will be watching the same TV show. There will be no escape.

Thanksgiving will be a small affair at our home this year. Just Mom, my sister, King, our granddaughter and myself. Which is fine as I have to work later in the afternoon. So we will have a simple meal around noon and about the time Mom starts wringing her hands, obsessing over something only she understands, it will be time for her to go home and for me to go to work.

Friday some of the kids and their families will be coming over for leftovers. I promised our son, since he is married to a vegetarian, I'd save some turkey for him.  Guess I'll need to buy a big bird.

I will start preparing early next week by purchasing a turkey. I have potatoes in the house, but King prefers instant potatoes and stuffing from a box (I know, I know). My sister will be bringing some pies and green bean casserole. That will be it. A no-fuss Thanksgiving.

Mom would not approve.

She would begin weeks ahead of the holiday. Cookies would be baked. Applesauce made. Cranberries ground into relish. Ingredients for pies purchased. Frozen bread dough stocked in the freezer. Her sterling  brought out and polished, Thanksgiving decorations set out and, maybe, she might hang one tastefully placed Christmas wreath.

King has already put up the outdoor decorations and we've begun our annual discussion of whether the lights around the garden are white or blue. (They are blue). I came home from work one evening and he and our granddaughter had set up my Christmas Village. . . on plastic shelves that had been in storage for years and were not cleaned before being set up. I scrubbed the part facing the front and removed cobwebs.

Mom definitely wold not approve.

But I am my own woman and I kind of enjoy it. I may even hang Christmas stockings from the ceiling fan.