Thanksgiving in Maine has become a tradition over the last couple of years. We spend Thanksgiving up there with Stef’s family and Christmas down in Massachusetts with my family. It has worked out and continues to work out and therefore I have no complaints.
I do miss certain dishes the way that Mom prepares them. I do love the stuffing I’m used to at home, and the rolls, and I always love the company. Thankfully, I get most of that on Christmas. But, I do still miss the good old days.
Don’t get me wrong—dinner at Julee’s isn’t bad either. They have their own traditions which I’ve come to really enjoy, most of them involving weirder versions of the same foods I’ve always had. And I like Stef’s family, I really do. That is one area in which I feel really blessed. They seem to like me. I seem to like them. My family seems to like her and she seems to like them.
Yeah. I’m sure that made sense.
After dinner, we rode up to Portland to see her dad’s side of the family and that was swell, too. The gathering was at her uncle’s house, which is quite big and quite nicely furnished and the whole atmosphere was jovial and a blast to be around. Her relatives were a little taken aback by my blonder hair, but at least one told me that it was quite becoming.
Uhm, that’s all.