Usually, we host Thanksgiving. This year, we went to my aunt's place. Which is this place:
The building is not a pillar of festivity.
But my other aunt is living here now, too, while working on her PhD and teaching at UH, and she subscribes to gourmet cooking magazines. It was excellent. Our only jobs were to drink cocktails and eat and float in the hot tub. Am officially a fan of eating at someone else's house for Thanksgiving.
The man wore a real shirt.
The sisters drank margaritas and tried to stalk old boyfriends on the internet, but got sidetracked by online book sales.
We had so much cheese.
Zenny ate with my grandmother's silver baby spoon.
PIE.
Food coma.
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