Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day, and once again I am looking forward, with great anticipation, to the gathering of my family, together, in my home.

We will dine on our traditional holiday meal of turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, dumplings, green beans, devilled eggs, broccoli/cheese salad, cranberry sauce, corn, and any manner of random offerings my sisters, mother, or genetic offspring decide to bring.

Did I mention chocolate cake and assorted pies? And, of course, persimmon pudding?

Some of you might not be familiar with persimmon pudding. I think it’s a tradition that is common mostly in southern Indiana and the immediate areas, although persimmons are also found in the Far East.

Here is my recipe for persimmon pudding. Try it if you dare!

Mamacita’s Persimmon Pudding

2 C. persimmon pulp
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 1/2 C. sugar (I use Splenda)
1 C brown sugar
1 1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. salt
2 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. vanilla
2 large eggs
2 C. flour
2 1/2 C. evaporated milk
1/2 stick margarine, melted

Dump it all in a large bowl and beat it ’till it’s smooth. Pour the batter into a large buttered baking pan and bake at 325 for approximately 60 minutes. Start checking it after 45 minutes; each batch is different. It’s done when the toothpick comes out clean.

Sometimes I put cream cheese frosting on it, sometimes I serve it plain with a dollop of whipped cream or Cool Whip.

In this community, most people pick the persimmons off the ground and run them through a special grinder to make the pulp. We can also buy frozen pulp at any grocery store here, but it’s best to use pulp you made, yourself, or that someone else just made. It keeps in the freezer for several years.

A good trick to play on a pesky younger sibling or neighborhood kid is to tell him/her to touch his/her tongue to a green persimmon. Heh heh heh. Their reaction is well worth the punishment you get for ‘being mean to your little brother, etc, etc, blah blah blah.” Oh, the joys and perils of childhood are many and diverse. . . . .

Now I’m off to get dressed (I slept in, so what, I’m THANKFUL for it!) and start cooking. And while the yeast rises, I’ll dust and polish the staircase. And when I get to the bottom of the stairs, I’ll throw some clothes into the washing machine. And by then, the stairs will be dry and I can go back upstairs and cook some more.

I LOVE this time of year! All the holiday magic is ahead of us.

Are we ever too old to savor the anticipation of holiday magic?

FINALLY!

Someone took me up on my plea for company!

Look at this beautiful child; isn’t he precious? I got to play with Ezra all weekend, so now you know where I’ve been, in case anyone missed me, which probably nobody did, but in case you did, I was busy playing. Playing, and watching “A Walt Disney Christmas.” Possibly eleven or twelve times. (“This is the one where Donald Duck is mean to the little ducks. . . .”) This child is so smart, and so loving, and so caring. He had the movie memorized after about three showings and after that we recited along with it, together. Lovely manners, this kid has.

Oh, and that drum he’s playing? I watched the artist create it. He sat Indian style, on the sidewalk, in the very heart of Hippiedom on Kirkwood Avenue, in the midst of dozens of seventies’ designers and crafters of jewelry, macrame, incense burners, recorders (the flute kind), gauze shirts, roach pipes novelties, leather shoes and clothing, and everything in the world that could be scented with patchouli or sandelwood.

It was 1972. It was $35.00. Pay attention to your pronouns’ antecedents. (The apostrophe goes after the ‘s’ because ‘pronouns’ already ended in ‘s.’)

In all, I think all the musical instruments were sampled and/or played with familial expertise. (That’s ‘familial’ and not ‘familiar.’) We put fresh batteries in all the keyboards and everything.

Because, you see, this family, we traditionally GET DOWWWWN.

If you hit the drum juuust right, you can play the theme song from ‘Tailspin.’

Ahem.

As for the moose, Ezra decided that his name was George, and George went home with Ezra. When you visit, I’ll give your child a moose, too. I’ve still got about a dozen of them; they were mascots for my homeroom back in the public school classroom. They sit in a long row in the guest room. Your child may have his/her choice; there are no two alike and they’re all cute.

Anyway, that’s what I’ve been doing this weekend. It’s been wonderful. WONDERFUL. Ezra and his parents (I love you, Matt and Liz. . . .) brought great joy to my life. Thank you for your visit.

The cat loves it when we have company, for two main reasons. Reason One, there are more people to pet and scritch him and cater to his every whim except the one where he thinks he’s going to stay in the house all night, and Reason Two, the house smells like bacon all day and the cat is bonkers with ecstasy.

Unexpected company: one of my favorite things. I’m still smiling.

So then. When are YOU coming over?