gobble, gobble.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, by far. I love fall, and pumpkin pie, and mashed potatoes. I love Thanksgiving. For years my family would go to Philadelphia to see my relatives there, and that was fine, but since I started college we've stayed in New York, and Thanksgiving has gotten even better.

This year, after going to see the Macy's Day Parade, I spent the day alternating between the kitchen and the living room couch, where my cousin, who came down from Boston, patiently explained the rules of football to me and my sister, yet again. (I still don't understand the scoring.) Then we all pigged out, on squash soup, turkey, mashed potatoes, carmelized onions, salad with pear and gorgonzola, cornbread stuffing and cranberry sauce. After all that, we normally go for a walk to digest and come back for the grand finale: pie. After pie, as per tradition of the last couple years, we went out to a jazz club. My cousin is a jazz musician, so he picks the best show in town, and it's always fantastic. Last night was no exception.

I'm sad Thanksgiving is over. But, for posterity, here is a picture of this years pie, baked with my own loving hands: