It’s Thanksgiving in the old US of A. I love Thanksgiving not just for the food, but for the cooking of the food. Yes, I love to cook, and I always look forward to a day in the kitchen. Sounds odd right?
In modern America, being a foodie is a badge of honor, but that means eating out not cooking in. Forget that mess. Eating out is okay when I’m too tired to cook, but the food tastes so much better when you make it at home.
So this Thanksgiving I am thankful for my kitchen. It has plenty of storage, and counter space, and all the utensils and condiments I need to create a traditional Thanksgiving feast.
So while you’re driving miles down the highway to your in-law’s house to avoid cooking, I’ll be in the kitchen humming away and enjoying the tastes and smells.
My wife will be watching football or one of those boring Thanksgiving Day parades, rolling her eyes at me for enjoying the kitchen.
Of course, I’ll get the last laugh. Afterwards, while I’m lounging on the couch in a turkey-induced haze, she’ll be on cleanup duty.
I cook, you clean — it’s the best deal I ever made.
My daughter calls me Super Genius, but not in a good way. She doesn’t mean Fruit Loops with marshmallows genius (If you haven’t tried this perfect breakfast cereal, stop denying yourself). When she calls me Super Genius, the words are accompanied by a smirk and an eye roll. She means Wile E. Coyote Super Genius. . . and I’m okay with that. She even bought me this nifty shirt.
I earned this designation by sharing all the trivia stuck in my head with my family at the dinner table. So this means we made a habit of sitting down and eating dinner together, and even (gasp) talked as a family during that time. So yeah, I tell too many “dad jokes” and spout off nonsense trivia, but it beats each of us burying our heads in our cell phones only coming up for air for a “pass the bread.”
Besides, Wile E. Coyote is one of my childhood heroes. That dude never gave up! Get blown up, fall off a cliff, get hit by a train—it didn’t matter, he always came back for more. That coyote had a goal, and he was determined to reach it no matter what. To be honest, I always cheered for Wile E. Coyote. He was the underdog (or would that be undercoyote?), and that roadrunner was a bit too arrogant for my taste.
So when my daughter calls me Super Genius, I just smile.
When the roadrunner finally slips up, I’ll be the one strapped to my Acme rocket ready to swoop in and finally reach my goal. Or, maybe it’s off the cliff again. Who can say, but you can’t stop trying.