Hey! Remember when Thanksgiving happened?
<insert Wayne's World flashback fingers and sound effects>
I do the same thing every year: I intend to ROCK OUT with a whole slew of Thanksgiving-related blog posts. I make such a big goddamn deal out of the holiday in real life that you'd think my blog would reflect that. Maybe take a yearly dive into recipe blogging and 500-word entries about napkins. Show you the real depths of my vintage glassware obsession. (It's deep, man. Like The Descent, only with more bowls.)
Instead, I completely freak out over EVERYTHING that needs to be done in preparation for Thanksgiving that my blog basically sits silent while its author runs around like a headless turkey hopped up on coffee brine in the distant background.
Then I gorge myself on challah-bread stuffing and sleep for four days straight.
IN OTHER WORDS, will y'all please indulge me and look at some pictures? You actually don't have to really look at them — I'll never know if you keep your Minecraft window open — just type a fake-appreciative mmm-hmmm in the comments and I'll be happy.
First: Something old.
Or, well. A lot of somethings old.
I have cobbled together a somewhat bizaare collection of Depression glass and stuff from the 50s and 60s, which I mix in with more modern-looking white plates and serving pieces from Ikea. The black stuff is L.E. Smith black amethyst glass, and is actually the most gorgeous purple color when held up to the light.
Note that this hidden feature is only noticiable if you hold it up REALLY REALLY CLOSE to a lightbulb in an otherwise dark-ish room, which nobody in their right mind is going to do during a dinner party.
Note that this will never, ever stop me from forcing my guests to hold their black coffee cups up to the light and squint while I fuss with the dimmer switch until everybody nods appreciatively about my weird-ass cups, because I am not in my right mind.
(I LOVE MY WEIRD-ASS CUPS.)
Ta-daaaa! Look at me, trying to be all grown-up and shit with my table.
Twee little flower arrangements/party favors courtesy of Jason's aunt, who joined us this year and who shares my obsession with twee little flower arrangements. I was extra jazzed about these flowers because they justified my purchase of an entire set of those funky avocado trays. I mean, I have four and technically only used this one, but lay off me, it looked AWESOME.
(The trays are mid-century Kyes Moire Glaze. I also have a full-size round bar try in cream, and am currently lusting over several others in various colors that I have no specific use for, but HO HO HO that probably won't stop me.)
(I bought the little trays because I thought they were cute. I bought the big tray because it went with the little trays. I bought the ice bucket because it went with the big tray. I bought the hot toddy glasses because they came as a set with the ice bucket, and now I have to figure out what the hell goes in a hot toddy and start drinking them constantly and I THINK I NEED HELP, YOU GUYS.)
More flowers in mini mason jars, restaurant supply tea towels for napkins, and a shot of good whiskey in a tiny jelly jar.
(That last one is kind of a tradition around here. That we just made up. Just go with it.)
After I remembered to light the candles.
FINALLY, some appreciation. For the fire, mostly, but I'll take it.
Now, lest you think I've gone all crazy isn't-my-house-all-perfect design-blogger on you, allow me to show you what was happening all day just out of frame, in the living room:
Aaaaaand that's the squalor we all know and love. Bonus points for the visible tangle of wires.
Okay, back to the grown-up section of the house, which gives me a sense of control in a world full of Legos:
I made you some cheese puffs, but we all ated them. Took about three minutes.
To be fair, we had help.
YEP YEP YEP.
A toast to our hipster Thanksgiving.
(And yes, the children were banished to eat in the kitchen. Off colored plastic Ikea plates from the circa last-time-we-went-there era. I did not take any pictures, prefering to forever remember the sounds of their collective whines over having to eat like, four bites of turkey and stuffing before being allowed to have the pie and ice cream IN MY HOLIDAY HEART.)
Appetizer station later morphed into the doodle station.
And then a dessert station. Ezra ate the filling out of a full half of a pie.
(This is EXACTLY how I ate pumpkin pie for much of my life, so I can't really judge.)
(Look! I was there! MY PRESENCE WAS DOCUMENTED!)
(I actually made it into a record-breaking TWO photos this year.)
After pie and coffee (LOOK AT THE CUPS. LOOK AT THE SAUCERS!), we had the traditional wrastling:
Feats of strength:
And possibly some impromptu streaking.
The next morning I ate stuffing straight out of the casserole dish for breakfast.
Best Thanksgiving ever?
Best Thanksgiving ever.
See you at Christmas, mah pretties. Hopefully by then you'll be joined by some vintage Pyrex and some festive hot toddies.