Thanksgiving

You know you’re living in Barcelona when literally a third of the people in your phone contact list are named either Jordi, Marta or Mireia. When another third are named Sonia or Ana, then you’re in trouble. Inappropriate text messages may be sent. Just an observation I made to myself this morning.

Anyway, because we’ve lived abraod for so long, we’re fairly sporadic in celebrating Thanksgiving. However, this year my two American friends and I are making the real deal including TWO turkeys (not because we have so many people but because ovens in Spain are too small to fit a regular American-sized bird), two different kind of stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, pie, etc.! Since most of the invitees are from here, this means we’ve got a lot of pumpkin pie virgins to contend with. We have considered making them dress up as Indians (we’d be the pilgrims of course, or would it be the other way around?), but we decided they’re going to have enough trouble just wrapping their heads around an entire holiday meal that doesn’t include anything made with olive oil, squid ink or codfish. Do you remember how I told you about my Halloween party at which all the children in Nico’s class devoured the olives stuffed with anchovies but refused to touch the candy corn? Enough said. Besides, I have a nice case of conjunctivitis so the disease-spreading portion of the festivities is already taken care of.

I wrote a bit about the concept of being grateful for this week’s Family Matters column. Here is an excerpt: