Thanksgiving is, I think, my favorite holiday.
Though I have to admit, it doesn't feel very Thanksgiving-y here in Paris.
Well, obviously.
Instead of a four-day weekend, I just have a regular week of work. And a big presentation on Friday. So I will have to settle for cranberry yogurt for breakfast (that's a standard yogurt flavor here, oddly enough) and calling my family in California. Violins, please.
My mother will make last-minute trips to the grocery store and try to keep the dogs out from under foot. My aunt Roseanne will roll up her sleeves and make pie after pie while my uncle Robert prepares the birds and various elaborate side dishes. My fifteen year-old cousin Pierson will act as sous-chef. My brother will sleep in until noon and my dad will play golf.
In the evening, the adults will drink Manhattans before dinner.
In the evening, the adults will drink Manhattans before dinner.
And I will wish I was there!
Oh and if you're wondering, the picture above was taken in front of a Cajun restaurant/American grocery store in the Marais that's actually called "Thanksgiving." Though I have never been in (I somehow manage to live without Jiffy peanut butter or Stay Puft marshmallows here in France) I kind of love that it's named that.
Thanksgiving
20 rue St. Paul
75004 Paris
In Washington DC it's almost as cold as Paris, although without snow. I'm looking forward to California and seeing you in a week or two.
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