Well my dear blogging world, I'm about to host my first extended family Thanksgiving. I'm not sure if it was a seizure that overtook my body and first suggested the idea to me, or perhaps aliens. We may never know. But, host I shall.

No, I kid. I'm actually looking forward to it. I think you need to come from a big family to understand the appeal of a large crowd. My poor husband is not from a large family and so he tends to pick a spot and sit quietly while contemplating the meaning of life and (I'm positive) how he got himself into this mess in the first place.

He has my sympathies.

I figure I've got upwards of 20-25 people coming for sure, with about 10 people who may or may not show. Thus the conundrum of blended families. Always more than one place to go. But, I'm not going to worry about that right now. I may not worry about that ever. I figure if stretching food is the height of your concern, then you are doing pretty well.

Wait a minute, what am I thinking? When has this family ever had to worry about stretching food? Answer: not in a million years. We are a bulk buying, bulk baking, bulk eating group.

What's that? For Thanksgiving? Oh. Sure. Yeah. Only on Thanksgiving...

Anyhow...Although it is rather stressful to plan a gathering of this magnitude, it's comforting to know that these people sign up to attend these holidays year after year. To know that no matter what, they are going to be around. Probably eating. Probably laughing. Probably asking you the very questions you hoped they wouldn't ask but of course want to know because they are your people and they love you and want to annoy you. Out of love.

It's touching, really.

You know that movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding? At the end, when everything has turned out just oh-so-swell and they are all dancing in a circle and the main character talks about her family? I get it. Almost every single thing in that movie rings true (minus the Greek heritage and weird accents.) As they say in the movie:

My family is big and loud but they're my family. We fight and we laugh and yes,
we roast lamb on a spit in the front yard. And where ever I go, what ever I do
they will always be there.

My family is loud. My family is big. Oh, and trust me, we fight. We do not, however, roast lamb on a spit in the front yard. Although I kinda wish we did. Imagine the stares from the neighbors! Plus, I have seen Dad eyeing the Windex on more than one occasion. Coincidence?...but I digress.

Thanks Nia Vardalos (writer of My Big Fat Greek Wedding.) For putting in to words what generations of crazed family members knew all along.