Being an American in Canada on Thanksgiving is never easy. I typically send a few days whining on twitter and facebook and skype about how I hate all my friends who are spending their days stuffing themselves full of stuffing and watching copious amounts of football and complaining about their mother-in-laws and braving the stores for some Black Friday deals and making “I’m thankful for” lists while I have just a regular old Thursday and Friday of school and work and carpools and homework and parent/teacher conferences and swimming lessons (spoiler alert: none of the kids passed their levels this time around. Money well spent, FTW).
Granted, we have this annual potluck jamboree at our friends’ house. It’s quite lovely actually, albeit nothing like real Thanksgiving. Six couples get together once a year. Six Americans-who-are-married-to-Canadians-and-now-live-in-America’s-hat each contribute something to make the holiday a little extra festive. And there are games! Usually I am super competitive…but this year my brain was just too fried to spot the 7 differences on the first Thanksgiving dinner print-out and I got tired while singing The Animaniacs state capitals song. But, it’s something. Something good during these days when I’m not with my family. In fact, I have three siblings and two sets of parents and not one of them was together this year. There was one in Milwaukee, one in NYC, one in Nashville, one in Atlanta, one in Scottsdale. Crazy, eh? Actually, though, knowing that no one was partaking in turkey and stuffing goodness together made it a lot easier that I wasn’t there.
So, while I was mourning the idea that I was not going to be buying the camera lens I want or hitting Target at 6am, I embraced my inner Canadian and spent my Saturday night doing the most Canadian thing I person can do.
I donned a toque.
I drank a beer.
I went curling.
I lost all feeling in my extremities.
No, really, I did. My mustached-for-Movember husband decided that since all three of his sisters were in town at the same time (which is so rare, I cannot even tell you) we should get together. So naturally, he went into planning mode and decided that, obviously, curling was the only option. We had a lesson with our new bff Jim, who taught us the fundamentals of rocks and brooms and, you know, trying not to break your ass on the ice.
It was good times, I say.
(image shamelessly stolen from Dave’s Facebook page)
So, yes, this year I am thankful that I can embrace my Canadian half with my Canadian family when I can’t be embracing my American half with my American family.
I am also thankful that there are only two days left in Movember.