Oh friend, do you love Thanksgiving as much as I do?

I mean, okay, let me back up for a little bit and explain why this holiday is untraditionally,

yet traditionally my favorite holiday of the year.

So have you ever seen Norman Walkwell's famous painting of a Thanksgiving dinner there at the

head of the table?

Mom is serving a beautifully browned turkey, while dad is wearing a suit, beaming with pride,

guests at the table smile and lean over, gleaming white platters of colorful vegetables and gravy.

And that is what I thought holiday dinner should be.

Instead, Thanksgiving at my parents house has always been a series of jagged memories in my household.

Like the time my dad made wantonsoup instead of a traditional Thanksgiving dinner.

I mean, you guys, who does that?

Who makes wantonsoup on Thanksgiving?

And here's the worst part, like a detail that doesn't really matter, but yet has burned a hole in my eyes.

That year my mom went to pick and save, now called big lots, and she bought these gold reflective tablecloths.

Like, did you even know they made gold reflective?

I mean, just imagine like gold foil tablecloths, and my dad brought it a big pot of wantonsoup and served it in bowls.

And I was like, somewhere in the past, you just made Norman Walkwell cry.

Or, hey, how about this time?

Another time at Thanksgiving, my brother tossed Pillsbury Crescent Rolls like they were warm little footballs.

No, instead of passing the bread basket around the table, he just picked up a Crescent Roll and then tossed them to everybody.

Yeah, we're real classy.

Or, how my mother has served a frozen turkey six years in a row.

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