A Feast for One: How Thanksgiving Found Me Again

 What is your Thanksgiving tradition?

Thanksgiving has worn many faces in my life—crowded kitchens, 22-pound turkeys greeting the dawn, aunties in aprons, cross-country flights gone wrong, and now a quiet table set for one. What hasn’t changed is that tug of nostalgia as the house fills with the familiar scents of butter, broth, and something slowly roasting. My celebration today looks nothing like the chaotic family feasts of my childhood, but in its own way, it’s become just as meaningful… maybe even more so.

My Mom hosted Thanksgiving for our family of eight plus two spinster aunts. Those were the days when you had to get up at 5:00 a.m. to put the 22-pound turkey in the oven. But really, the preparations started days earlier. The turkey was thawing in the fridge at least four days ahead of time. Luckily we had a second fridge out in Dad’s shop, which freed up the kitchen fridge for the butter, eggs, celery, and real cream for whipping. I have such vivid memories of those behind-the-scenes rhythms.

I took over hosting when I was 23, newly married, living in the duplex we owned (the other side rented out to pay the mortgage). Fortunately, everyone brought a side dish, making it much easier than Mom’s solo marathon. That tradition only lasted a few years before we moved to California after the great Ohio blizzard.

In the Bay Area, we created a new tradition: inviting friends and neighbors without nearby family to a Thanksgiving potluck. We tried making the trip back to Columbus our first year in California, but it was a disaster of delays, missed connections, and luggage frozen on the tarmac for days. After that, we stayed put and made our own celebrations.

Fast forward to intergenerational JB in Lake Oswego. These days the kidults and grands go to Jesse’s side of the family for holidays and birthdays. I no longer join them—the drinking gets out of hand, tempers flare, and frankly, my blood pressure prefers peace. So now I get to cook all MY favorites, light a candle, and settle in with a BBC detective drama. Honestly… bliss.

Dressing has always been my favorite dish. I use a pared-down Pioneer Woman recipe with three kinds of bread (one being cornbread), and it’s a once-a-year treat I should probably allow myself more often. And yes—I make homemade gravy. This year, instead of Costco’s massive pumpkin pie, I’m making a small one from One Dish Kitchen, just a few perfect servings for one. I’m also trying her green bean casserole for one.

And the main event this year? Duck confit. I’ve never had it, but one of our fancy grocery stores carries fresh-frozen confit. Thaw, sear, serve. It’s already fully cooked, but the butcher told me that searing takes it from delicious to ooo-la-la.

These days my Thanksgiving table may be smaller, quieter, and blissfully drama-free, but it’s also filled with gratitude—the simple kind that comes from honoring old memories while creating new, gentler ones. Whether you’re feeding a crowd, traveling across states, or enjoying a peaceful feast for one, I hope your holiday brings exactly what you need… even if that’s just good food, a warm candle, and a detective solving a case in the background.

COOKING FOR ONE in a household of five

I enjoy eating. And I enjoy cooking. I wouldn’t want to do it every day—let’s not get crazy—but lately Jesse finally acquiesced and handed me the Tuesday dinner baton. (It helped that he was coaching Deacon’s soccer team and didn’t walk in the door until well after 6:30. Desperation breeds delegation.)

My Tuesday specialty quickly became soup because everyone seemed to eat at different times anyway. My chicken noodle soup is nothing fancy, just honest comfort food. I learned long ago to serve the cooked noodles—or rice—on the side so they don’t bloat into sad broth-sponges. One grandson likes mostly broth, the other prefers to shovel in mostly noodles, and the rest of us land somewhere in between. So it was a Tuesday night win-win-win-win.

Then I tried homemade marinara with a small pasta buffet: spaghetti? penne? both? They even liked gnocchi, which made me feel like Giada for at least five minutes. Some nights I put out a little salad smorgasbord — lettuce, cukes, carrots, celery, olives, nuts, cheese, protein — giving everyone the illusion of choice. Works like a charm.

But today’s topic isn’t about feeding a family of five.  It’s those wonderful, rare evenings when I want to cook just for me.

Years ago I stumbled onto a website called One Dish Kitchen. It’s run by a husband/wife team, and I swear her email newsletters could talk me into cooking things I didn’t even know I wanted. Her introductions are charming and her tips for using up leftover ingredients are pure gold. She’s on Facebook, Instagram, and—if I could subscribe hourly, I probably would.

Here’s my guilty pleasure: every so often I send my family on little overnight (or two or three) road trips. Go, be free! Drive somewhere! Eat snacks! And once the house is blissfully quiet, I suddenly have the energy to do a project. (Never again oven-cleaning. That was traumatic. This time maybe the pantry.)

But here’s the key: when I get into project mode, I don’t want to stop and cook. So I’ve been slowly creating a tiny stash of single-serve casseroles. Years ago I bought myself a cute 5”×5” casserole dish from One Dish Kitchen—white, simple, and apparently invisible, because whenever someone empties the dishwasher, it disappears into the Bermuda Triangle of our overcrowded cabinets.

So yesterday I treated myself.  I ordered a three-piece set in bright, unapologetic RED:

• a 5” square baking dish,
• a 10-ounce ramekin,
• and a 5”×7” casserole dish (technically for one… or two… or a very hungry me).

I'm hoping the RED will ensure these items get back to the Grandma kitchen shelf  I keep a few kitchen items on the shelves in my room.  So I can easily find them again.  The citrus juicer.  The bottle opener.  Large serving platters.  A soup tureen.

And last but not least—my secret weapon—I always keep a few ready-to-eat single servings of protein in the freezer. On those nights when the mood strikes, I just grab one, defrost it, warm it up, toss it onto a giant salad, and pat myself on the back for being both practical and deliciously self-sufficient.

Sometimes cooking for one feels like a little love note to myself.

And honestly? I’m starting to think I deserve more of those.

Vanity? Or Just Self-Care Evolving?

Am I getting a little too vain these days?

I splurged this morning and got a foaming enzyme facial—soooo luxurious. There were at least ten different steps: pre-cleanse, cleanse, tone, exfoliate, massage, foaming enzyme, mask, and several layers of moisturizing and protectant serum. My face felt like it had taken a short vacation to a spa in the clouds.

But this is just one phase of my current project: lightening age spots. Last month I signed up for a package of three microneedling sessions.
Face needling (also known as microneedling) is a minimally invasive cosmetic procedure that uses tiny sterilized needles to create micro-punctures in the skin—basically telling your body, “Hey, let’s make some fresh collagen!”

Benefits: It can smooth texture, soften fine lines, brighten tone, and even get rid of peach fuzz (though it does grow back).

Procedure: After applying a topical numbing cream, my aesthetician went to work giving me a surprise hand massage during the wait time.

Recovery: My face looked a bit pink for a few days—like a mild sunburn—but within a week the dull skin flaked away, leaving a brighter, firmer surface. Skincare products absorb better now, which feels like getting a bonus round.

Some people take collagen supplements, but the science isn’t conclusive. Personally, I’ll stick with homemade bone broth—it feels comforting and might just be helping my skin and my immune system.

So yes, maybe I’ve crossed over into the land of facials and serums—but if feeling good in my skin is vanity, I’m okay with that.

 

POLLYANNA

 "Pollyanna" refers to the 1913 novel by Eleanor H. Porter about an orphaned girl who finds something to be glad about in every situation. Over time, the name has come to describe a person who is excessively optimistic — often said with a touch of disdain. I loved that movie. Maybe because I was 9 or 10 and at that wonderfully impressionable age. (In fact, I may need to watch it again.)

There are people who use my word — Pollyanna — as an insult. But I think there’s something brave about staying hopeful, especially when the world seems determined to serve up the opposite. I do try to use positive words more often than negative ones. When we expect good things to happen, and are hopeful, usually good things do happen.

When I took a philosophy course years ago, I learned that negative comments tend to open conversations more easily than positive ones. I still remember the example: a group of people are waiting at the bus stop and someone grumbles, “This bus is always late.” Another person sighs, “I’m going to be late for my appointment,” and someone else adds, “This waiting is ridiculous.” The conversation flows easily — until a cheerful voice says, “I’m so glad it’s sunny.” Suddenly, silence. Negativity builds camaraderie; optimism, it seems, sometimes just halts traffic.

“Most folks are as happy as they make up their minds to be,” said Abraham Lincoln — one of my favorite presidents.  And one of my favorite quotes. Happiness is an internal choice, not an external circumstance.

Years later, I got to explore that idea again when I took the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI), the personality test developed by Isabel Myers during World War II and based on Carl Jung’s theories. It sorts people into sixteen personality types based on preferences and behaviors.

Luckily for me, I got to take the test when my husband was president of a small manufacturing company (about 100 employees). He was big on team building, and I suggested — quite persuasively — that I could benefit from the testing too.

My result? INTP.
I = Introvert
N = Intuition
T = Thinking
P = Perceiving

Every once in a while, I retake a free online version, and it’s pretty much the same. I find it reassuring — like rereading a favorite book and finding that the plot still fits.

So maybe being a Pollyanna isn’t naïve after all. Maybe it’s just another way of choosing perception over pessimism, of deciding that life’s “late buses” aren’t quite so bad when the sun’s still shining. And if that makes me a Pollyanna, I’ll gladly wear that badge.

GRANDMOTHER EMPLOYMENT

I am pretty lucky to live with two younger generations.  All four are kind and usually willing to do anything I ask of them.  They grocery shop, cook, clean up and do all the laundry.  The adults run the boys for sports an academics and social life.  I saw an ad the other day with this T-shirt

And realized I, too, am an asset here.

I’ve always been a geek and I continue to embrace technology.  The family router is in the window in my room.  I set up everyone’s iPad or computer.  I update the firmware in the router (about once a year).  If the power goes off, I reset and reboot and remind everyone to have patience.  The boys school laptops won’t allow them to use our wireless printer so I have them email their homework to me and then print it.  When I learn a new trick or a new app, I share my joy with them.

We don’t have a fridge with water and ice maker  There are four ice cube trays and every time I go to get a few cubes … all the trays are empty … except for one cube.  I now have a part time unpaid job here that is very appreciated.

Not many of this group have been trained in bathroom etiquette.  The boys take turns cleaning ours every week (with Gramma giving things a swipe with a Clorox wipe in between).  No one seems to be able to recycle the toilet paper roll and replenish the Charmin.  We have cute little containers for small paper cups and another that holds Q-tips and Swisspers (instead of cotton balls).  I’m the Bathroom Fairy for these chores.

What is the average salary/earnings for a part time Uber driver?  I had to look it up for our area of the world.  I make between $23 and $28 per hour.  Something to add to my Gramma resume.

I’m especially good at those quarterly jobs that are always on the back burner. Today I cleaned and organized the fridge freezer.  Tossed freezer burned bags of strawberries from 2022.  We save bits of fruit for smoothies but the ones in the back that are not easily visible don’t get incorporated.  And you remember the three day event cleaning the oven???

Being the start up business bookkeeper is not my favorite job.  But I had to remind them when they get a $500 order for plants it’s not really $500 to spend.  Last month I made an Income Statement for them.  They DID make money!!  Pretty amazing considering they didn’t really start Seablush Natives as a “business” until last March.  So now they know how to best re-invest.  Kate is so in touch with the industry locals.  Last week she bought rare bulbs from a sole proprietor in like her.  She is going to keep one or two of each variety and sell the others for ten times what she paid for them!  She will plant some to sell as plants and she kept a few for our yard.  Working in an office is not for everyone.

I volunteer for other small odd jobs … washing the pot holders, refilling spice jars from the bulk department, enforcing recycling, writing items on the TO BUY list, garnering coupons (for things we DO use), keeping the fresh fruit bowl with fast disappearing items, getting the mail.

Last, but not least, I’m a bit of a General Store shop keeper.  For the boys.  I have a dorm sized fridge in my room (for hummus, string cheese, tiny diet sodas, alcohol free beer and other items the family doesn’t enjoy.  I also have a container of gum, tic tacs, candy, cookies etc.  As well as a few regular sodas (the 6 oz size, of course).  All available for just a hug.

Look at me!  Just earning my keep! 

From Ice Baths to Pistachio Lattes

Trends come and go faster than my tolerance for TikTok, but somehow they still manage to find their way into my social feeds and grocery cart. Every week there’s a new “miracle” for health, beauty, or happiness — and usually, it involves something cold, green, or wildly overpriced. I can’t decide whether to embrace these trends or just roll my eyes and pour another cup of coffee. So, let’s take a look at what’s “hot” (and sometimes icy cold) right now.

Health trend
Ice baths, also known as cold water immersion, have been reported to provide several potential benefits, although research is ongoing and more studies are needed to confirm these effects.

Cold water immersion can reduce inflammation and muscle soreness after exercise as it numbs pain receptors. Ice baths constrict blood vessels, which can increase blood flow and promote healing.

Some studies suggest that cold water immersion may boost metabolism and burn calories. It may also stimulate the release of endorphins, which can improve mood and reduce stress.

As for me, I think I will just cool down my shower for my last rinse.

Food trends
Anything pistachio is IN! Stuffed dates, tiramisu, pistachio and honey cheesecake as well as savory items like pistachio crusted fish, savory pistachio butter spread, pistachio pesto.

Dubai chocolate and more. I love pistachios so count me in on this food trend. Starbucks serves a Dubai chocolate drink (not on the menu). To order it, ask for a grande iced matcha latte, add two pumps of pistachio sauce, and top it with chocolate cream cold foam.

And what’s with all the potato chip flavors lately?  Most of them just sound so odd to me ...

Bacon Grilled Cheese
Valentina & Lime
Korean Style Fried ChickenHot Sauce
Wavy Loaded Nachos
Kettle Cooked Cheesy Buffalo Dip
Taste of Thailand Thai-Style Red Curry
India's Magic MasalaTzatziki
Chesapeake Bay Crab Spice
Dill Pickle

Did you know Lay’s has over 200 flavors just in the US?  When I was globe trotting along with my husband (he was working, I was playing) I had to try some local flavored chips every stop we made.  Paprika, Wild Mushroom, Tomato, Ketchup, Puckering Pickled Onion, Honey Butter ... yes, it was a fun hobby and no wonder I have weight issues!

As for me, I prefer unadulterated low salt potato chips. My addiction since childhood.

Whether it’s freezing your body in a tub of ice or eating pistachio-crusted everything, I’ve decided that moderation — and a little common sense — might be the real trend worth following. I’ll stick to my slightly cooler shower, a handful of pistachios, and my beloved low-salt potato chips. Some things never go out of style — especially when they taste like nostalgia.

WAR TORN PORTLAND

If you believed the national headlines, you’d think Portland, Oregon was a smoldering wasteland — graffiti on every wall, protestors roaming like a scene from Mad Max, and citizens dodging tear gas on their way to brunch. Spoiler alert: that’s nonsense. I live just eight miles south of downtown “war-ravaged” Portland, and let me correct the record — there’s no war, and there’s no ravaging. Unless you count the occasional pothole or a coffee shop running out of oat milk.

The city of Portland spans about 145 square miles. The “protest and war zone” stories come from one single city block, not even IN downtown but 2.3 miles south, the ICE building. A small group of protestors (many dressed in friendly animal costumes, bless them) have kept that block lively — but it’s hardly the apocalypse. Our local news stations run 24/7 live feeds so that the so-called leaders in Washington can watch for themselves, though apparently few of them do.

Meanwhile, real numbers tell a different story. In the first half of 2025, Portland saw significant decreases in violent crime — homicides down 51%, overall violent crime down 17%, and similar drops across assaults, robberies, and sexual assaults. Hardly the stuff of a “war zone.”

Violent crime statistics (January - June 2025):

• Overall: 17% decrease
• Homicides: 51% decrease (35 in 2024 → 17 in 2025)
• Aggravated assaults: 18% decrease
• Robberies: 10% decrease
• Sexual assault reports: 12% decrease

That’s progress — and it deserves more attention than fearmongering soundbites.

Which brings me to the biggest embarrassment: our own U.S. Labor Secretary, former Oregon congresswoman Lori Chavez-DeRemer. She’s been loudly calling for federal intervention and even the federalization of the Oregon National Guard, as if Portland were under siege. This from someone who was once a small-town mayor, then a one-term Representative who didn’t even move into the district she represented. Maybe she’s confusing fiction with fact — or maybe it’s just easier to score political points by badmouthing your own backyard. Either way, shame on her. Oregon deserves better than exaggerated headlines and opportunistic storytelling.

Because here’s the truth: Portland isn’t “war-torn.” It’s quirky, imperfect, and recovered — just like any city that’s lived through tough 2020. You can still find kids playing in parks, food carts smelling like heaven, and the world’s friendliest dog walkers offering you directions to the nearest farmer’s market. If that’s a war zone, I’ll take it any day.

So no, Portland isn’t burning — it’s brewing. Coffee, ideas, and maybe a little irritation that the rest of the country keeps mistaking a block or two of weirdness for the whole city. I’ll take my Portland just as it is: a little scruffy, a lot sincere, and endlessly interesting. If that’s what passes for a war zone, send reinforcements — we’re running low on lattes.

This just posted in Sunday's NYT: 

https://www.nytimes.com/2025/10/11/us/politics/portland-protests.html?unlocked_article_code=1.s08.qX42.gc1q7t2VER5B&smid=url-share