It’s that time of year again. The 20 pound gargantuan frozen Butterballs are sitting on the counter to defrost. You’re frantically looking at the clock to plan out what’s going in the oven next, what you have to prep, and 150 foot inflatable Pokemon are crawling across your TV screen.  At least in my family, we are the ones to host every Thanksgiving.  Papers and notebooks full of recipes are sprawled across the kitchen counters and tables like a madman’s lab experiment. 

While mom is massaging the butter-rub on the turkey, pops is strategically playing chess on where everyone will sit, referring to his damn spreadsheet on cook times and what needs to be prepped, and I’m doing my best to keep them afloat from the stress and clamors of  “We need to get the bird in the oven now!” and “Did you prep the mushrooms? The Leeks? Did you make sure you’re uncle’s bringing the pies? What about the beverages? Can you go pick up ice at this exact time?”  It’s like they’re cooking for the royal family or something. At the end of the day it’s about getting the family together and taking a “walk” to the park at sunset to go smoke a joint with your cousins before dinner.  

By noon, the kitchen’s a warzone. I can’t even put my coffee down anywhere.  Cooking isn’t even fun at this point and I know I won’t be hungry from tasting damn near everything that’s going to be served.  But one thing that is nostalgic to this  time is that the rents leave me in charge for the tunes for the holiday.  This isn’t your average friendsgiving playlist when there’s bottles of tequila going around with the bucket of KFC someone brought to the potluck.  We’re talking about sipping a nice Riesling and listening in to grandpa’s war stories while these tunes stroll in the background.  Here’s one less thing you need to worry about while you’re getting ready and enjoying your holiday feast.