my first grown-up thanksgiving.

Back when I bought the domain UndomesticMrs.com, I silently hoped & prayed that his was a colossal waste of money.

Because, surely, by the end of the year, I will have figured this whole “domestic goddess” business out, and be in need of a new blog name.  Right?  (Either that or have finally thrown in the towel on blogging completely after the last 47 dry spells.)

Mine and Anthony’s moms might think the answer is a loud & clear YES!  Because I actually almost never ask them any questions about anything.

But, before you bust out the champagne, the only reason this is the case, is because my life coach is right at my fingertips.  Enter:  Google.

When I actually sit down and think about it, I google a lot of shit.  A.  Lot.  Of.  Shit.

Back in the day when I had blog post ideas coming out of my ears, I actually never thought twice about my strange google queries, and merrily asked foolish question after foolish question, got my answer in three seconds or less, and went on with my day.

But alas, my ‘blog ideas’ well has run dry and my Undomestic title gained another notch in its belt with the recent loss of about 96% of an entire pan of crappy lasagna.  So I think it’s time to come clean, for the sake of my blog name & utter lack of post ideas despite the looming holiday season, and present to you, full-disclosure style, the embarrassing things for which I turn to the Google.

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disclaimer: this is not my search history. 😂

Being that it’s so close to T-day,  I think it’s only appropriate to start with the meatiest, most daunting search I have ever performed.

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Normally, this task is left up to my parents and Anthony’s parents back in Connecticut.  However, after two years of muttering, “never again” through gritted teeth in Thanksgiving traffic, we are finally heeding that sage advice and staying the F put, right here in It’s-Already-Snowing, Wisconsin.

I’m putting my foot down.

Ha.  That statement gives me the allusion of control, and also implies that it was not my fault we trucked home the last two years despite Anthony’s willingness to hang back for not one, but both years we’ve lived out here.

We won’t be completely orphaned for this holiday though, since Anthony’s brother who recently moved to Florida is flying up because it’s cheaper to get to Wisconsin than it is to get to Connecticut.  But since we’re 30, 28 and 27, we also figured it was high time we learned how to wrangle the Thanksgiving bird, since our days of hosting are rapidly approaching.  And, let’s be real.  It’s just better if my experimental first Thanksgiving guest list is a grand total of one.  Who also doesn’t know what he’s doing.

We shall learn together, and burn together. 🙏

Burn the food, I mean.  Not like, in hell. 😅

 

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I don’t know about you, but I’d be pretty psyched to have these people cooking my Thanksgiving feast.

 

Any tips for our first Thanksgiving?  Favorite recipes?  Dos?  Don’ts?  I need all the help I can get, since bro-in-law is doing research of his own and informed me that the turkey needs to defrost for longer than a day, so we need to buy that guy STAT.  I personally just thought people bought early because they might sell out.  (What?)

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2 thoughts on “my first grown-up thanksgiving.

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