A-traditional Thanksgiving

In the years of this last decade, Mom has asked what we want to do for the Thanksgiving meal. I got the impression several times that she was wanting a break from the work. And just about every year, I've suggested that we do something completely different and far simpler: just go out for Chinese food. I picked Chinese because I wanted to make her squirm; I was after the laugh.

Clearly, next best to a home cooked Thanksgiving meal would be going to a restaurant that serves most of the items found in our typical Thanksgiving meal. Next after that would be going to some American cuisine restaurant that we frequent. Nowhere near the top of the list would be going to a restaurant with no connection to Thanksgiving or American cuisine. But I still kinda liked the idea. Chinese food is great, it would relieve everyone of the burden of cooking, and, by golly, why are we so tied to tradition? Wouldn't some stretching do some good, some relaxing of rules? I suggested Chinese food every year. It was rejected every year. Though the words were different every year, they all basically meant, "No! John, you're goofy." And I laughed every year.

This year, Mom accepted an invitation to hang out in Colorado with my sister Joanne for Thanksgiving. I stayed in California. Alone! I decide where I eat this Thanksgiving! Chinese it is!

I packed a few goodies in the car: a flashlight for some last-minute geocaching and some reference material on programming.



Yay! I found the cache! That's probably the sixth time I've visited this location. And it's the smallest cache I've found, too. (Yes, that's the "log" in there, fan-folded to fit. And there's still room for another 20 people to write their names and date, like I did.) A nice victory before dinner.

I drove around, looking for places to eat. Most restaurants were closed. I came across an Indian place that I've enjoyed and pulled into the parking lot. But I backed out when I thought about how I wanted to check "had Chinese food for Thanksgiving" off my list. I made my way back to a Chinese buffet place that had quite a spread, for a bit higher of a price.

Ok, the place is Korean, and they serve a mix of Chinese, Japanese and Korean food. I was the only white dude there at the start. Perhaps at the end, too. Lots of black hair in the room. I loaded the plate up with sushi (including squid and baby octopus to test my nerves--no, I wouldn't do well on Fear Factor) and expected to fill the plate up with more stuff I encountered along the buffet bar. Then I came across a pan of meatballs. "That's just wrong," I thought. This photo op and accompanying caption immediately came to mind, and I headed back to the table.


Seafood and a meatball

I read a bunch of programming documentation and kept packing in the food.

Now that I think about it, I kept one Thanksgiving tradition: I packed myself to the point of discomfort.