thanksgiving

join me inside the minutia of my body and mind as i prepare to leave my home

Hi all,

I look forward to Thanksgiving every year of course because of the food, but also because it’s a time to really unplug. Laze around my childhood home. Steep in full regression (which in the past has driven me to play Sims and try on my bat-mitzvah dress). It’s a true pause and I’m feeling especially hungry for it this year—a release that’s all the more powerful after the unnecessary level of anticipatory anxiety I get each time I prepare to leave my home for more than three days. It’s a weird control thing (as most things are), and figured it could be fun to walk it out for you?

I’m also in job search mode, marketing myself as a project manager so consider this my Thanksgiving Project Plan. A demonstration of my sharp attention to detail. I wish I was kidding when I say I’m kind of tempted to walk this out in Google sheets.

Thanksgiving 2024. Monday 11/25-Saturday 11/30

Monday 11/25, 6:21am-11:10am - Departure to Penn Station
Timeline note: Train leaves at 12:34pm. I’m traveling with my grandmother and she likes to be at the station at least 45 minutes ahead of departure time, so I need to be there at 11:45am. Which means I need to leave my house at 11:10am.

6:21am - Wake up, retrieve phone from underneath pillow and ruin whatever reparative work brain did overnight. Talk to Fran. Ask her to snuggle with me. Hum her a song, she seems to like that. I think because of the vibration.

7:03am - Make the bed (I’ve become very consistent with this and it feels really good). Wash face. Brush teeth.

7:15am - Put out Fran’s breakfast, put on a pot of coffee. Try and entice Fran to play because enrichment is important. She’s very playful but gets bored with her toys easily because she is also very smart.

7:30am - Turn off alarm and feel amazing about the fact that I didn’t need it wake up today (anticipating travel took care of that).

7:30-7:40am - Phone alarm sucks me back into my phone, start scrolling. Send an Instagram of a slow loris to my sisters, insisting that Fran looks exactly like a slow loris. Check hinge. Contemplate matching with a goblin. Eyes start to burn. Put phone down (in a place I will forget and later spend an exasperated thirty seconds trying to remember).

7:42-8:30am - Morning pages with coffee and little-to-no interruption. Eat a handful of nuts. Remember to download episodes of Real Housewives for the train in case I don’t want to look out the window for 3.5 hours straight in a deeply detailed, down to the second daydream of one specific scenario—and at least three iterations of that specific scenario. I’m attempting a RHOBH rewatch. Well, a partial rewatch because I’ve never actually made it through the early seasons. They’re very dark. But maybe I’m up for it. And now with the world being as dark as it is, this franchise might feel lighter in comparison.

8:30am - This is ambitious, but maybe take a walk? I’ve got some time to kill and would be nice to get some fresh air? When it’s warmer out, I usually do my morning pages and coffee outside. It’s impressive. And makes my life so much better. When it gets colder out, however, I can easily go a full day without leaving the home. Writing this I’m realizing that it’s 3:36pm and I have not stepped a foot outside and I likely wont now that it’s getting dark. And then I start to think that this is what Fran’s life is like and I get sad about that. Always indoors. Stop myself from googling some version of “Do cats like living indoors,” or “Is my cat depressed.” I do open the windows for her, but it’s not the same. One day I won’t live in the city and I’ll get her a catio. I tell her that often.

9am-10:47am - Sit on the couch and watch Great British Baking show and knit. Probably eat some chocolate. (The calm before the storm).

10:48am - Give in to the sudden and powerful urge to pack and repack my suitcase. (Here we go).

10:58am - Start picking up pieces of paper and small specs of trash from the floor that I’m somehow only seeing now and that my weekend vacuum missed. Make sure all drawers are closed without anything sticking out of them. Consider / feel compelled to empty all my drawers and reorganize them. Force myself to disengage from this slippery slope. I have to leave in less than ten minutes and there won’t be a potential travel catastrophe to pretend I have control over if I don’t make it to the train in the first place.

11:06am - Pain sets in when I realize it’s time to leave Fran for five days. Take at least 3 photos of her on her perch. One might be a selfie, depends how unraveled I’m feeling (more unraveled = selfie, mildly OK = no selfie). Force myself to the door and take one more picture of Fran before I leave. Through the crack of the door look Fran in the eyes, slow blink twice and say “I love you.”

11:07am - Lock the door behind me. Promptly unlock the door and step back inside to make sure the stove is off (even though I did not turn it on this morning), that the bathroom door is closed (there was an intense plant knocking incident that prompted keeping this door closed anytime I’m gone for an extended period of time), and that the money I left on the counter for Holly (cat sitter) is in fact still on the counter. Look into Fran’s (perfect) eyes, slow blink twice and say “I love you” as I close the door.

11:10am - Off to Penn Station right on time and all the pressure magically lifts. But first, stop abruptly in the middle of the street. Lay suitcase flat. Unzip it to make sure I brought my computer charger. And while we’re at it, double check that I have my wallet. And my house keys. And my brain.

Onwards.

I’m sort of funny this way (and maybe it’s totally not unique at all), but it’s the transition from one mode or space to another that gets me reeling. Once I’m out of the house, onto the next leg of a trip, I’m chill. I don’t worry about missing my train, or whether I’ll have enough time to get my snack. I’m really good at making myself at home once I get to my new situation/mode, it’s the knowledge of a space being temporary that freaks me out—or I guess the anticipation that I’ll have to be moving on from it soon. What do you do with the little time you have? How do you operate when you can’t attach too deeply to where you’re at in the moment? This is also why house parties can be so unnerving to me and why I thrive in a dinner party environment. Give me a seat. I want to settle in. To dig in. I do not want to float.

Monday 11/25, 11:43am-12:48pm - Departure to Massachusetts

11:43am - Arrive at Penn station early. Notice the live string quartet playing what sounds like the Game of Thrones theme, and wonder why. Meet up with Grams and get a sandwich for the train. The one that comes on olive bread. Get mildly upset that we clearly have a budgeting issue in this city/country and perhaps money could be used more wisely, but the olive bread is good. Stare at the main center screen and wait for train track number to be announced. Wonder when I’ll stop sweating and why my stomach already feels like shit.

12:26pm - Get on the train, find our seats, stow our bags, sit down. See a crack of sky as we exit the tunnel and psychically lift up and out, into the layered expanse of my brain. The rest of the trip is a blur. I might eat my sandwich, I might not. Three and half-ish hours of absolute bliss.

4:05pm - Mom picks us up from the train station. Open the car door and get hit with the smell of home. It’s a different smell now than it used to be, and changes over time. Right now it’s a mixture of my mom’s soap and dog hair (she has four golden retrievers).

4:30pm - Arrive home, drag bags up to room. Immediately change into soft clothing. Go downstairs and peruse the fridge and all corners of the snack cabinets. There’s nothing I like more than surprise food items. Finding something unexpected, finding something familiar. Have a snack, likely one from the fridge (cheese?) and one from the cabinet (tortilla chips). Don’t stop eating from that moment on.

Tuesday 11/26 - Thursday 11/28, 10am
The days and moments leading up to The Thanksgiving Meal collapse into each other, a bit of a groundhog’s day meld.

My days all look the same: lounge around the house, maybe break things up with a game of pickle ball, a couple walks around the neighborhood or on the trails behind the house. My grown up hygienic responsibilities usually slip a bit.

I have a tote bag of activities that I lug up to my room at night and back downstairs with me each morning:

• My knitting

• iPad

• Journal

• 3-5 pens

• Water bottle

• Phone

• A book just in case. I won’t read it.

My mom and sister will make at least three trips to the grocery store, picking up one-off items they forgot they needed for the meal. I tag along for most because I love the grocery store and grocery shopping with family/friends always has been and always will be one of my greatest comforts.

We order Chinese takeout on Wednesday night from our neighborhood spot that we’ve been eating at since I was two. Or maybe we eat there? Apparently the food has gotten worse. I’m hoping for the best. Mandarin Taste is an important tether for all of us.

Thursday 11/28, 10:05am-3/3:30pm - Preparing The Thanksgiving Meal

10:05am-2:30pm - Park myself at the kitchen island, either with my knitting or iPad, to be in the center of it all while mom and Alex cook. Offer to help, but know I’d only slow down the group. At some point, perform my annual task of cutting the brussel sprouts. Start singing and get yelled at to stop. Help Grams set the dining room table.

2:30 - Food is prepped, turkey is still cooking. We take our traditional walk in the woods before dinner.

3:05ishpm-4ishpm - THE MEAL. It’s a thrill. It always is. Spend most of it talking about what leftovers we’re most excited for.

4pm - Clear the table and wash the dishes to take a momentary break from eating, making room for dessert. My family plays a game. I sit this one out because it’s a board game. I don’t like who I become when I play board games, and I’m usually too impatient to learn the rules. Or to care about them. I like interactive games. Like talking.

5:30pm - Dessert. Which then welcomes savory round two. Have a bite of stuffing. A chunk of cheese. Eventually decide on something to watch as a family. I have a feeling I’ll be in the mood for Bourne Identity. Knit to keep hands busy and force a mini break from eating.

8:05pm - Time to hermit in my room. Put together a little snack bowl/ramekin covering all major flavor profile groups, fill water bottle, grab tote, and pull self upstairs. Watch RHOBH in bed and finish snacks before falling asleep.

Friday 11/29 - The Thanksgiving Come Down, The Simultaneous Dread and Pull of Real Life

On this day we eat leftovers and kind of do more of the same. I lay in bed a little longer this morning, suddenly very sentimental about my room.

Saturday 11/30 - The Return to New York
Timeline note: Train departs at 10:20am, so we should be at the station around 10ish. Boarding at the RTE 128 station is humane. Leave the house by 9:30am.

7:05am-8:30am - Wake up, brush teeth, shower, perform typical skincare routine (grown-up hygiene practices have returned). Pack up suitcase with no pressure to pack and repack, to check and re-check the checklist. Going back is always a downhill motion. Bring bag downstairs and set it by the door. Walk around the house with tote bag and collect all the loose items I’ve strewn/hidden around the house over the course of 4.5 days.

8:30am-9:25am - Have some coffee and last couple bites of leftovers. Consider bringing some back, but ultimately decide against it. Intestines/colon/kidney—whoever processes this stuff—is begging for a break. Do one final sweep of the house just because it’s something I feel like you just have to do. Find a sock. Stuff it in the front pocket of suitcase, where it will remain for ~5 months.

9:30am - Get in the car to the train station and grapple with desperately wanting to get back to New York but also just wanting to be taken care of for a couple more days. I’ve forgotten how to feed myself.

9:55am - Say bye to mom and go back for a second or third hug. Start to cry a little because I’ve been having intense separation anxiety lately for whatever reason (“a burning pain in my heart” as I like to say, for dramatic effect). We laugh about it because it’s ultimately very funny. Roll bag and self into the station and wait for train to be called. Contemplate going to the bathroom but decide against it because I always think it takes me a full 7 min to pee when really it takes 30 sec tops and I don’t think I’ll have enough time.

10:10am - Train is called. Get on board. Sit by the window and look at the sky. All the pressure lifts, I’m off. Psychically lifted up and out of my seat, into the layered expanse of my brain. The rest of the trip is a blur. Three and half-ish hours of absolute bliss.

Saturday 11/30 2:28pm - Back to Life in New York, Rush Home to See Fran.

Hope you enjoyed this little slice of my brain and my swing at something new.

Thanks for reading and talk soon,
💗Ariella