It's been a week since Thanksgiving, and I bet you are just dying to know all about mine.

Growing up, holidays like Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter were full fledged family affairs. Someone hosted, everyone cooked and brought dishes pot luck style, everyone ate at a big table or two, conversated, laughed, ate some more. Kids ran around the front yard, back yard, upstairs downstairs, down the street, up the street. Dishes were done by all, naps were taken, movies watched. Those days were drama free and looked upon with great affection.

At some point though, people went all Martha Stewart and things got out of hand. Turkeys had to be perfectly glazed, and vegetables perfectly roasted. Cranberry sauce from a can was no longer acceptable. Tables contained cloth napkins folded into little turkey, craft tables and guided activities were set up for kids, and heaven forbid you ask your "guests" to assist with anything. It's exhausting and a chore. I don't like chores, not since, like, ever.

So that's why, for the last four years, we get Cracker Barrel for Turkey day and sit at home, in our PJ's, just the three of us. If you follow me on Instagram you might have seen the extras I cared to make because:

a. I like fresh cranberry sauce;
and b. nobody else in my house will touch the stuff.

What you didn't see was the big fat box that contained everything one needs for a happy day of anti-social isolation. Just the way I like it. I think Cracker Barrel should reconsider their marketing and call it Big Box of Eff All ya All, We're Staying Home in our PJ's. 

Any who, I hope you had a good holiday, Christmas is coming. Just a friendly reminder in case you were unawares.

p.s. The fresh cranberries I used to make the sauce were spoiled, except, I didn't know that. Thankfully, I am the only one in the house who ate them. I say thankfully because if 3 people were in the situation I found myself in we might have had to have the toxic waste clean up team to our house for the holiday. Carry on.