Happy Thanksgiving, Yogis!

This week's entry will be brief. I have a lot of doing nothing to get to. Don't worry, next week's entry will be wonderful to make up for my lack of ingenuity this week (See what I did there? Now you will have to come back next week despite the disappointment of this week!). In the meantime, I will entertain you with a brief description of my non-Turkey Day weekend plans. Let's start with a brief flashback (twinkly music plays). 

Last year, as many years prior, I drove down to my home base #3, St. Louis, to spend a festive holiday with a massive number of relatives crammed into a small condo. It is my very favorite way to spend a weekend. My sister, mother and I can reach decibels that can be used for sonic strip-mining. This can get very wearing on The Boy who is oh so thankful when I leave once a day for yoga in my St. Louis studio. When I am gone there are only two banshees howling. Two is infinitely easier to hide from than three. Sadly, on Thanksgiving itself, the studio in St. Louis was closed so I had to take the day off. To avoid shaking down the house with my jerky leg (sitting a whole day wouldn't be so bad if I hadn't spent that time pumping myself full of coffee and sugar) I jogged around the complex. When we settled down for the evening I reviewed facebook and found that my Chicago studio had posted a few pictures of the Thanksgiving Day class they had. I sighed longingly at reading that the class had reached capacity at 70* people. I then passed the photo around the room the same way one would a lover's photo when separated on a special day.** 

That was last year. This year, because of my sister gave birth to twins, we have postponed our Thanksgiving a week for cheaper airfare so we can all gather in D.C. (home-base studio #4) and see the newbies. This means I will be at my home base #1 for Thanksgiving! I am super excited as they are offering two classes on Turkey Day, one at 8am and one at 10am. I am aiming for the 10am because my further plans for the day consist of Chinese food and eating Mallomars. I'm afraid if I get up too early I won't have the energy I need to eat all those waxy chocolates. 

Earlier today, I was discussing the excitement of Thanksgiving day yoga with some fellow yogis and the owner of our studio on facebook. It happened to come up that the studio owner herself was missing out on her family celebration to spend the day at the studio. I am not sure if she is teaching one, both or just staying here to help at the studio, but whatever the reason, she is missing her dear mother's coconut cream pie so we can have class. Bless her.

That brings us to this current moment. I am typing away while a ball of pie-crust dough chills in the refrigerator. I have never made a coconut cream pie before but Im taking a stab at it this evening to bring in as the best substitute for mom's Thanksgiving I can provide. Mind you, this might end up looking very much like when a child brings a mud pie into their mom because I have never made a cream pie before. 

I love making fruit pies because they are as easy to make as well...pie, but need some serious assistance for this concoction. Thankfully, I found a recipe by Emeril. Emeril is my favorite crutch for new cooking projects. Cooking a dish for the first time can be rather like assembling a bike without knowing what a bike looks like. You have some parts and some instructions but there isn't a good way to know if you are heading the right direction (Scald the milk? Doesn't scald mean 'burn?'). Emeril has talked me through fiddleheads, savory crepes, latkes and various other potential disasters. Emeril, please don't fail me now. 

Excuse me a moment, the dinger just rang, I have to go check on a pie crust ball. 

I'm back. So far so good....but we haven't gotten to the scalded milk yet. At any rate, what I am trying to say, with my ridiculous pie and post is that I have an awful lot to be thankful for. My caring studio owner, the loving staff, my great yogi friends, my many homes,  my family as loud as me, The Boy that will endure three large banshees and two tiny banshees in a confined space for multiple days, and most certainly, my readers. I never thought anyone would care to read what I spewed out on here, but I have been thrilled to see that people DO read my nonsense. I have also met people here and across my other homes whom I may not have met through any other means. I really appreciate you all and I am so glad to have you in my life, whatever form that presence takes. Much love, happiness and good will to each of you today and always. Now, I am off to go see what scalded milk looks like. Emiril, please guide my hand true. 

Update: The pie is not solidifying. I have made coconut soup in a shell. Hope I don't spill the "pie" on the way to the studio.

*More or less. Frankly, I don't remember if it was just over or just under and I can't be bothered to fact-check; it would disturb the cat sleeping on my lap.

**On a side-note, my mom had never seen what an actual Bikram class looked like before and commented on how diverse the room was. Young, old, thin, thick, men women. "Well, I just thought they would all look just like you." she said. I thought of a class full of me and shuddered. "No. Thank g*d, no." I responded.