363/365

thanksgiving rituals:

cook the cranberries til they pop
mash the potatoes til they melt in your mouth
make the table look pretty (lord do I love to set a table)
talk about mom
call dad, tell him I love him
tell myself there's room for pie
watch this classic around midnight

358/365

saturday morning grocery list:

one orange
one very portable, fairly customizable, smallish birthday cake
one bag of coffee beans, medium roast
one bag of pecans, chopped
one bag of marshmallows
two boxes of stovetop stuffing
two bags of cranberries
one box of readymade pie crust
three bottles of sparkling cider
one box of salted butter
okay, two

as in, yurtsgiving (2013 edition)

yurtsgiving, as in thanksgiving that happens in and/or around and/or near a yurt.

three years ago, when we were still living out in portland, the madison family said, hey! let's camp! let's camp for thanksgiving! and we said hey! let's camp! let's do it! though we feel we should tell you something. we've never camped before.

which is maybe the first time we'd admitted it out loud, while living in the pacific northwest. because, and maybe this will come as a surprise to some of you, this is not something you openly admit when you live in the great pacific northwest. you do not openly admit to not liking coffee. and you absolutely do not openly admit to never having camped. you just don't. believe me.

and it's not that we didn't want to camp. we just didn't know how. neither of us had ever gone as kids, neither of us had grown up camping. we didn't have any of the stuff. and you need the stuff. you can't just show up and camp, you need the stuff. furthermore, you need to know how to do the stuff. and we certainly did not know how to do any of the stuff. and so this is how we went almost seven years living out in the great pacific northwest (the unofficial camping capitol of the free world) without ever having camped.

clearly, yurtsgiving changed all that. for the record, I do realize yurt camping is maybe not the same as, ahem, real camping. though I'm here to tell you it sure as hell is when you've never been camping before. as the people say, you've got to start somewhere and that little yurt nestled in a forest along the oregon coast was our gateway drug. that little yurt in nehalem bay is where we fell in love with bacon cooked over an open fire and crazy camp raccoon shenanigans and midnight stargazing and campsite turntables and picnic table thanksgiving dinners and, well, camping.

twas our last thanksgiving while living in portland, twas a heckuva way to go out.

tradition

this will always be one of my all-time favorite thanksgiving memories: my friend jon madison with that turkey, that tub of spice, that vinyl. the year we camped in yurts on the oregon coast and ate turkey at a campsite picnic table.

thanksgiving changed for us the year we moved to portland, oregon. one of many casualties of the big move across the country, a move that put us hundreds of miles from family. the first couple of thanksgivings, we tried. we really did. we worked hard to recreate what we'd had back home with family. and we did all right, I guess. the kids were young, we didn't really know what we were doing. the first couple with just the four of us were sweet but, undeniably, a little lonely. 

then, one year, we decided to throw out the regular plans, trade them in for shiny new ones. which led to a last minute road trip to astoria and our first thanksgiving meal at a fancy restaurant. the next year we hosted thanksgiving for friends at our house, a first for us. another year, we camped in yurts on the oregon coast with friends and prepared the whole thanksgiving meal mere steps from the pacific ocean, another first. and last year, we found ourselves in florida for thanksgiving, yet another first. 

so this is our tradition, I suppose. thanksgivings that move around. there will always be mashed potatoes and fresh cranberry sauce, I will always bring out my mom's little ceramic turkeys. they just might not always be set out on the same table.

after a couple of days in the mountains we'll head back home for our first legit thanksgiving since we moved back to atlanta. but who knows where we'll be next year? I'll tell you, that's just the way I like it.

favorites

a few favorites from thanksgiving before the week starts, before the world shifts back into high gear and the magic wears off.

five senses friday

borrowed from my friend shari, who had the brilliant idea of documenting a week in this particular way and boy, was this a week for the senses:

seen: waves like sea glass, failed sandcastles, the whip of the kite in ezra's hands, the best thanksgiving movie ever, exactly four pink sunsets and one big crazy moon

heard: the birthday song (twice), a chorus of snores, a few human cannonballs, the begging of children (for night swimming), the quiet pop of cranberries cooking, the endless roar of the ocean

smelled: saltiest gulf air, secret coffee beans, melted birthday candle wax, elevator air freshener gone horribly wrong, turkey in the oven, coconut suntan lotion on my skin

tasted: stumptown coffee in the morning, leftover cranberry sauce on my toast, mashed potatoes and gravy, pie, pie, pie

felt: cold ocean water around my ankles, hot sunshine on the back of my neck, the weight of the SX-70 in my hands, a collection of shells in my pocket, sand (omg everywhere), thankfulness, thankfulness, thankfulness

atlanta + amsterdam: celebrations

atlanta, left:

thanksgiving, an american tradition. with several little quirky traditions nested within the greater tradition, depending on the part of the country you live in, the family you come from, etc, etc, etc. turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce. family, arguments, gratitude, pumpkin pie. though not necessarily in that order. thanksgiving, I am thankful for you.

amsterdam, right:

saint nicholas day, a dutch tradition. the anticipation of the arrival on december the 5th, decorations and festivities and festivities and decorations. and treats and fruits and tea. saint nicholas day, I like the idea of you. and hope to find myself in amsterdam some late november or early december in hopes I might catch a glimpse of you.

(more from my co-collaborator over in amsterdam, joyce, aka on a hazy morning//more about our twelve-week project here)

just about perfect

am now home from yurtsgiving 2013. am tired but happy and my hair smells like smoky campfire deliciousness. am happy to report copious amounts of mashed potatoes were consumed (as was a piece of joy's sour apple pie). I remembered my coat but did not need it. surprise of all surprises, the sun came out and we all ran around willy nilly, coatless. well, until the sun went down. thankfully, we did not forget the jiffy pop or the stevie wonder record. the twinkly lights did not make it. next time, maybe. I did not get that late afternoon walk in but I did stare wide-eyed at starry, starry night skies. I could not get over all the stars, I just could not. and I thought about my mom so much. she would have been so proud of our humble little thanksgiving picnic table. she probably would not have understood a thanksgiving yurt camping trip but she would have loved that table. and she would have loved hearing all the stories. and I would have loved telling her.

if you're reading this

it means I'm crossing number four off the list. I'm hunkered down in a yurt somewhere, with no internet access. and miraculously, had the foresight to schedule this to post. because I am winning at nablopomo, I tell you. winning.

come thursday night, I hope I am looking up at a wide open sky full of stars. that I am full of mashed potatoes. I hope I got a piece of joy's sour apple pie before it got snatched up and I hope I remembered my coat. I hope we remembered the jiffy pop and the stevie wonder record and the twinkly lights. I hope that I didn't talk myself out of a late afternoon walk. because I am really, really going to need that walk. I hope the kids are having the best time, the kind they'll talk about for decades to come. I hope I am feeling my mom all around me. I hope I am comforted by that. I hope I hope I hope.

mashed potatoes

today, I am thankful for mashed potatoes. and little flowers. and about a hundred thousand other things.

but mostly, mashed potatoes.

happy thanksgiving, y'all.

thanksgiving day

the day was a bit of a blur. but a beautiful one. happy thanksgiving, friends.