Late Dinner
So a few days ago, Julie Shuler invited me to Thanksgiving Dinner. Flattered, I asked whether there was anything I could do or bring, but she and her sister (and subsequently Jay-man) insisted on taking care of everything. Without any idea as to what this would entail, I went my merry way to town and promised to be back by seven.
The evening rolled around and I showed up to hear many voices coming from downstairs and in the servery. The sitting room yielded Penny chatting with another American woman, a Norwegian guy named Anders, and a Fijian named Marcus. Andrea showed up later to play chess with a very enthused Anders while I tried to make conversation with the others.
Dinner was not downstairs in the Shulers’ flat because the entire singles ward seemed to make an appearance that night—in Great Hall fashion, some fifty people crowded around the two dining room tables (Javery creeping around underneath), and food starting spilling out of the servery—dishes and dishes of maple ham, butter whipped potatoes, green bean casserole, creamed fruit salad, cranberry chutney, and the most delicious turkey I’ve ever had, not to mention pitchers of home-made root beer. Brother Shuler offered the prayer and all of us tucked in (it was after 8pm at this point). I sat next to Andrea, Anders, and another American who worked on graphics for Harry Potter and Avatar (no idea of his name or his company); we had some great conversation and both guys were heartily abused by the Shuler sisters for being tactless or something, I forget. After an hour, the eating had stopped but it was obvious no one wanted to move…a madhouse of dishwashing would ensue later.
The best part of the night was laid out in the servery—a smorgasbord of desserts, pies, cookies, fudge, strudel, and homemade whipped cream. I was impressed with how quickly everything was cleared away, and I was so excited about the pumpkin pie (something almost nonexistent in the
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