Last year, on the morning after Thanksgiving, I left the bed briefly to get my laptop, returned before the gray flannel sheets had gone cold, typed this note to my future self and put in on my October 2025 calendar:

Start thinking about a different way to do Thanksgiving. It’s too much work, and I was so worn out by the time it was over last year that nothing tasted good. It just wasn’t worth all the money and effort. I want to have real, present conversations without distraction, play games and pretend to care about football with everyone else.

Like many who live in the same town as their extended family, I have two Thanksgiving meals — one with my side of the family and one with my husband’s, usually a day or two apart.

On my side, my parents host and stick to the same menu and recipe

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