Several years ago my nephew ate so much at Thanksgiving he threw up. Obviously the only thing to do under such circumstances was to have a plate made for him that said “I ate so much I barfed”, on it, which we then served his dinner on the next Thanksgiving.
This is the way the holidays go around here. And there, wherever you are, I imagine. Not that people randomly vomit out your beautiful meal, but things don’t go picture perfect for anyone.
EXCEPT ME! Because on Sunday night when I had my family over for Thanksgiving dinner everything went exactly according to plan. It was perfect.
The guests arrived when they were supposed to. They all sat outside, basking in the unseasonably warm fall weather while I got things organized for dinner inside.
I burnt my finger on the oven. Not a big deal. Didn’t ruin the day or anything. Things were still pretty perfect.
Of course …
At one point the house became a massive Matchbox track to all the kids in attendance, who themselves were acting as Matchbox cars. Only faster and wilder. In fact, it was probably more like the Indy. The race consisted of – out the back door, through the back gate, down the sidewalk, through the front gate, through the front door, through the house, into the kitchen. Stop. Scream as loud as you can. Repeat.
For the entire Sunday. While people sat around drinking beer watching them. So I guess, technically it was probably more like Nascar.
The game was either gonna end with stitches or with the turkey hitting the table. Luckily it was the turkey hitting the table that brought the race to an end.
But other than that it was perfect.
I found pie in the curtains. That wasn’t totally perfect. But not bad.
Other than, those few little things – picture perfect.
Oh! Took a chunk out of my toe by closing the oven warming drawer on it, one kid got a screaming earache, I forgot to buy wine, we ran out of pie, the turkey was overcooked, Betty got tipsy and confessed to loving the show Cake Boss, and 9 out of the 14 guests left with a cranberry sauce stain on themselves.
Other than that, picture perfect. See? Here’s proof. Whatever.
cute little vignette of straw and mini pumpkins outside where everyone sat prior to dinner
conversation area where people talked about politics and Russian literature. And Cake Boss.
continuing the theme of white pumpkins throughout the backyard
miniature bales of straw with mums in a vintage earthenware pitcher
a little appropriate reading material for when there’s a lull in the Russian literature conversation
by the way, i TOTALLY didn’t place that leaf there. It randomly fell from the sky in a photographically pleasing manner
outside the chicken coop I had full sized bales of straw for sitting on, softened with a classic Hudson’s Bay blanket
the theme of straw, mums and white pumpkins continues
the view from the bales of straw
disturbingly, also the view from the dining room window
to create continuity, I brought the same theme indoors to the dining room table
jugs of mums, white pumpkins, vintage dishes and gold glittered pine cones
table set for 14
still missing some chairs on the far side of the table. hadn’t scrounged them up yet
this year I used all of my mismatched vintage and antique dishes with no chargers
an almost gleaming silver pitcher. too gleaming would have been too perfect for the table.
I wanted a more rustic feel so i left a bit of tarnish. on purpose. honestly.
the table runners were my famous dollar store garbage bags along with …
the occasional feed bag from my chicken feed
See? I wasn’t fibbing. Everything was absolutely picture perfect. As all dinner parties are. Until the actual guests arrive.