Thanksgiving Turkeys, Paradox, and Godhood
On Thursday, I hosted my first Thanksgiving dinner. My brother, my sister-in-law, and my four nephews—ages twelve, nine, seven, and twenty-two months—squeezed into the little studio that I share with two cats; and we sat around my table and ate some traditional holiday fare. I had made most of the meal, but my sister-in-law brought the turkey to cook at my apartment. My brother and sister-in-law are a bit chaotic. Because I know this about them and know how much chaos is compounded when four children are involved, I knew not to believe my sister-in-law when she told me that they would arrive at my apartment at 6:00 or 7:00 A.M. to start cooking the turkey. I just went on with my cooking and finished everything I was making before they arrived about four hours late. Since they were expected at a friend’s cabin that night, we had to flash-cook the turkey so they could eat dinner and leave before it got too late.
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