What's for (Thanksgiving) dinner?

Part of this post is to take a moment and reminisce about all my favorite Thanksgiving foods (aka starchy foods). Part of this post is to remind people that in between Halloween and Christmas there is a holiday that may not have all the glitzy songs or decorations, but has what I consider to be most important: kick ass food.

This week is Thanksgiving and I for one am most excited to pile a load of cheesy, sweet, deliciously comforting carbs on a plate and devour it. It's the one tradition of Thanksgiving that I've been able to keep. As a kid, we didn't have a ton of Thanksgiving traditions. In fact, the only tradition seemed to be that we got together, which looking at it now seems like a good tradition to keep.

The Wrye Family Thanksgiving included getting up and going to both sets of grandparents. Some times we went to my mom's family first. Sometimes, my dad's. It just depended on when my mom's set decided to do something. My dad's side, aka my Grandma Wrye, always had dinner ready about 4 p.m., complete with setting off the smoke detector. Thanksgiving wasn't really Thanksgiving unless one of my tall, male relatives was reaching up to take the 9-volt out of the detector at some point. Never for anything big. Usually just some forgotten rolls. In the end, it was the BEST.

My mom's side, on the other hand, makes dinner for other people 363 other days a year as they own a restaurant. So my grandpa would insist that my grandma not cook a big meal. Sometimes she listened and we ate pizza. Sometimes she didn't and we had all the fixins. Toward the later years, my grandpa made sure my grandma didn't cook and made reservations for us to eat together. That was also awesome and the best. Again, the theme being that we actually got to see each other.

But as I got older and my time off was saved for the "big" holidays and people became more scattered, sometimes the only "Thanksgiving meal" I would get would be from the potluck at work (which is actually the smartest way to do it. Our office would pay for a precooked turkey and everyone brought in everything else. For the price of one dish (or bag of rolls if you were really lazy), you could get a full Thanksgiving meal.)

Now I'm fighting to keep Thanksgiving. It's hardly worth it to go all out for a full dinner for just the two of us
when I know the leftovers will never get eaten. So, I've picked my favorite carb and his and we'll dine on them. It will be delicious, if turkey-free. Maybe I'll get a pumpkin pie too. I love me some pumpkin pie. Or better yet, some Pumpkin Delight from The Pub (pumpkin cheesecake + pumpkin pie=heaven.)

What's your favorite Thanksgiving food?

I Wanna Catch Fire

I'm gonna wait until Sunday morning, because that's how we do, but I am so ready to see "Hunger Games: Catching Fire." The first one was just so-so, I gotta admit. The books take place so much in Katniss's head that it seemed unlikely that it would be able to be translated into a movie in a cohesive way. And I was kinda right. There were some big holes in the first one.

But hope springs eternal and the second book is set up more outside the head and in the moment, so it lends itself to being a better movie. Plus the along with the rest of the nation, I have a girl crush on Jennifer Lawrence.

Fingers crossed, it rocks. Or else Chef may boycott the third one. (But he probably would still go because he loves me.)

My Magic Number

Remember when you were a child and your parents would insist you "say the magic word" and then you'd say "please" in a sing-songy voice like they'd just pulled a string on your back. Whatever you wanted would suddenly happen because of that magic word.

My magic number is kind of like that, but only in that it spurs action. My magic number is a weight that I hit that literally and figuratively hits me in the gut until my spontaneous reactions are guilt and shame. . .and exercise.

Last week, I hit my magic number. I'm sure other people have their own magic numbers. Especially if you've ever lost weight before. I vowed while in the middle of the struggle that I'd never weigh over XXX lbs again  but that number slid up 5 lbs or so when I decided that my apathy was overtaking my need to look decent in clothing.

However, the aforementioned guilt and shame mixed with a pre-work breakdown while selecting an outfit that seemed to look better just a few weeks ago was enough for me to REALLY start logging my calories again in myfitnesspal. Not the fake logging that I do where I start the day strong, but by 3 p.m. conveniently get temporary amnesia about my mid-afternoon M&M gorge or that Venti (which I swear is Italian for BIG ASS) latte with SUGAR! and a side of extra sugar.

The magic number has been hit and my apathy has instantly turned into action. Calories are watched closer than Kim Kardashian by the paparazzi! The gym is left with the funky combination of my morning breath from my panting and my sweat.

And in a few months, the work will payoff. It has before. It will again. Except maybe this time I'll drop my magic number by 15 lbs so I don't let it get this far.

Remind me that I said that in a year when I'm reaching for another cupcake.

One of these Things Does Not Belong Here

I had another City Council meeting today and it did not disappoint in term of things to see. Which of  the following did NOT occur:

• A full American Indian tribe doing a chant and dance
• A man in a batman mask at the podium advocating for something or another
• A homeless looking man saying the "Indians didn't sound like Indians. They sounded more like Hawaiians."
• A small dog named Lola being featured for adoption during the meeting

If you said ALL OF THE ABOVE, you are correct.

Seriously, go to a city council meeting sometime. Instant entertainment. 

Last Day in Hollywood

Well, kind of. Our office is moving from Hollywood Boulevard to Westwood on Friday. And because I'm out of the office for the rest of the week, this was probably my last time in the office (barring something catastrophic that I forgot). I've only been in Hollywood for about 16 months, but that was enough. The novelty of having the Walk of Fame just outside our office wore off after a few times of trying to trudge through crowds of tourists that were blocking the sidewalks to take a photo.

I will also not miss the miscellaneous road closures, the daily religious mob that chanted every day at noon (which signified lunch for us), and the most exotic lunch option being the California Pizza Kitchen.

We move to Westwood. I'm excited to get to know a new neighborhood, especially one so close to UCLA. And for me, the difference is pretty negligible in terms of commute, which is essential in LA. And I think that this office will even have an outside facing window, which is awesome. Oh and the fact that there's an actual loading dock and I won't have semi-drivers drop off my convention gear in the middle of a street because they can't find parking, will be an added bonus.

So as I left today, I was sad that I will probably not be back there a whole lot, but happy to not be going back there a whole lot.

Westwood ho!