I had to deconstruct Thanksgiving for my British friends on the way to Chomonkyo. Pilgrims, Indians, hand-trace turkeys, etc. Then, as I explained my family tradition, I got a little nostalgic. We meet at my dad's house, I yell at him that we are going to be late as he spreads cans of Cream of Mushroom soup over green beans. My brother, father, and I pile into the car and listen to Alice's Restaurant on the way to my Uncle and Aunt's house. Then we eat sushi, turkey, pecan pie, etc, while watching football or catching up on the past year of our lives. Later, we play basketball and drive home to go to our friends' Thanksgiving dinners and eat more.
This year I celebrated my day off work (it was coincidentally Japanese Labor Day)by going hiking in the freezing rain with some buddies from other places in the Ken, going to a delightful onsen, and stuffing my face with curry, which Steph pointed out was appropriate for the occassion ("you know, Indians"). It was a lovely day.
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