I’ve been in Scotland 25 years, but I’m American. I don’t really fly my American flag, I’d say I’m from New York first. Except when I’m in Edinburgh, then I say I’m from ‘up North’ and everyone gets confused. Because then I look at my daughter, and decide that I might actually be from Edinburgh, because that’s where she was born, and that’s where I became a mother.
Did I mention I was actually born in Dallas? The Texas one, not the Scotland one.
It’s all good, I’m confused, too.
I mostly feel American during The World Series, but also on Thanksgiving. Hi.
There’s a can of Libby’s pumpkin in my house every year, by way of speciality stores, and fairy dust and this year, a friend from Florida who I met while living on Skye. Figure that out.
Pie will be attempted by my Scottish husband, a feat that was first tried in this post over here, Proof of Pumpkin.
My American, but mostly Scottish Dad has never really been big on Thanksgiving, except for his Aunt’s pineapple red-hots. Which is basically pineapple chunks marinated in cinnamon red-hot candy and is freaking delicious, you guys.
Also delicious was my Nana’s pumpkin cheesecake. My love for her was not only food-based, but she made ALL THE BEST FOOD.
Here’s a recipe for pumpkin cheesecake, which I found online and looks good, but not as good as Nana’s.
I feel bad that my Mom is alone today, but at least she gets to watch the Thanksgiving Day Parade while eating discounted Reese’s.
As for us, we’re having Thanksgiving roast chicken. Not to be confused with The Thanksgiving Duck of years ago.
If you’re feeling a little lost today, for any reason, comment with your favorite blog post or Thanksgiving recipe, and visit some new people.
Happy Thanksgiving. I’m thankful for you.
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