Yesterday, I bought a turkey. Today, I bought a new roasting pan and pie plates. Tomorrow, the cooking begins. I love Thanksgiving. It's a holiday about being thankful. It's a holiday about food. I love gratitude, and I love food. But there's another reason I am excited. The cooking. I've got a small crowd to feed - just Sam, my sister-in-law Kirsten, and myself. I'll probably sneak a nibble of turkey to Oedipa, but she has notoriously low poultry standards, since she subsists mostly off of Purina One.
The last two weeks have been rife with milestones. I crossed the halfway point of pregnancy. I bid farewell to pants with zippers, sleeping through the night, and lying on my back. I ventured into the baby megastore and settled on a color scheme for the nursery. But the biggest milestone was also the tiniest. Somehow, I imagined that when I felt the baby move, it would be a cinematic moment. She would reach out with her tiny hand, give me a nudge, and I would jump up in amazement. Sam would rush over and feel her movements, tears in his eyes. We would stand in a long, lovely embrace, dramatic music swelling in the background.
