Thanksgiving

Two words frighten me almost to death: Vegetarian Thanksgiving. I find it a liberal concept even for the New York times, which is where I first read about it.

I'm not saying it can't be done. All things can be done vegetarian. But as the adage goes, just because you can doesn't mean you should.

Thanksgiving is maybe the one day out of the year that I do not for even a moment feel bad about the gazillion watts of energy used to bake a giant, usually non-free range turkey in a huge less-than-efficient oven. I do not bemoan the lack of organic food and cringe at the heavy amount of animal-based saturated fats. I don't recalculate my ecological footprint on the backs of old receipts. I do not debate the ethics of omnivory: I just do my duty which is to sink ever more deeply into a tryptophan-induced coma.
I don't even debate politics or women's reproductive rights and for one day out of the year, I forget how very different I am from the rest of my family and their back-water, semi-Republican-with-a-splash-of-Tea-party mindsets. And this is likely why I can get through the day.
So I will pass, graciously on the tempeh with wild mushroom fricassee an gluten-free pumpkin dumplings.