Turkey Coma

If this is what Thanksgiving is all about, then I am very thankful to be (at least half) American!

Pumpkin spice latte! Yummy in my bottle!

It all started wonderfully: a day off from school which meant a late-morning sleep-in with mommy and abba, followed by a delightful treat - my morning bottle filled with pumpkin spice latte (minus the espresso)! Yum yum! I wonder if this means my Christmas bottle will have egg nog. 

Then I stayed with Grandma for a couple of hours of spoiling fun while mommy and abba slaved over the hot stove preparing turkey, sweet potato casserole with marshmallows, pumpkin cheesecake and hallah bread. In the evening we hauled all that food to Elan's house where we had a lovely meal including Dee's garlic dee-light mashed potatoes, gravy, more turkey, stuffing and apple cranberry crumble plus Bess's string bean casserole, more turkey and stuffing, quiche and blueberry pie. I stuffed myself like a little oven roaster turkey until there was room for no more. Quintessential Thanksgiving, so I'm told. A turkey coma ensued shortly thereafter - another tradition so I'm told - and I passed out on abba's shoulder.

Ok, so hallah bread isn't usually on a Thanksgiving menu, but in Israel, Thanksgiving occurs on Friday instead of the traditional day, Thursday, in America. Since most of us are already off from our regular activities on Friday, that is apparently the day chosen by ex-patriates to partake of the holiday and it coincides with Shabbat dinner, thus hallah instead of rolls or cornbread. 

On my way to becoming a stuffed oven roaster of my own 

Thursday was a regular day here. I went to school. Mommy and abba worked and then we spent hours on Skype watching the family in America partake of the Thanksgiving feast while our mouths watered. And there was no parade here either. 

But mommy tried to get us all in the holiday spirit nevertheless. To prepare us for this day, mommy spiced up our bottles of milk and coffee and read me a book about the story of Thanksgiving. She played Christmas music and let the turkey aroma waft through the apartment. 

Hanging out with Dee

I revere Elan, especially for his entertaining expressions

We also found - not easily in this country - a turkey baster. Abba thinks he found a new use for it. I, for one, will allow only a certain person, sympathetic to my cause, to deal with my ever-running nose. Ephraim, my friend from school, has also had a bit of a runny nose. On Thursday at school he took some wipes and cleaned my nose for me. He was much more effective and gentle than my parents or teachers. So, seeing as he is in tune with how babies prefer to get their noses wiped, I let him. And now I protest ever the more when I see mommy and abba approaching with tissues or the evil aspirator.

Abba thinks the turkey baster would
make a good aspirator. Truth is, my
mucous sure could fill it these days.  

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