Not real ones, silly.
The kind made from tracing one’s hand. I’ve been overdosing on Thanksgiving activities the last few days, and not because of some strange nostalgic need to revisit the trappings of what is certainly not my most favorite holiday.
Thanksgiving, in its modern rendition, is a distinctively American holiday, so what better time for me to teach my students about American culture? I’ve been researching the celebration’s history, creating slideshows with family pictures (thanks, Mom), crafting practice hand-print turkeys, cutting out leaves (on which to write things we are thankful for), researching how to make a pumpkin pie entirely from scratch (no such thing as canned pumpkin on this side of the pond), and, currently, I am procrastinating the task of painting a giant tree on a bed sheet.
So a more in-depth discussion of what’s been going on in my life will be forthcoming, after the two Thanksgiving parties on Tuesday for which I must bake about 6 or 7 pies. There are birthday parties, food stories, and answered prayers in the near future. Just let me deal with Turkey Day first.
Who knew that Thanksgiving would be more stressful outside the U.S.?