November 2002 was the last time my grandma was responsible for making the Thanksgiving dinner.

When I was younger, my grandpa was responsible for the daily meals at their home. However, it was up to my grandma to prepare Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter dinners. Most of the time it was only my mom, my uncle, my grandparents and myself at dinner. My grandma insisted we’d eat at 2 p.m. I never really understood why we had our big celebratory meal in the middle of the day.

When my grandpa passed away in 1994, the responsibility to feed herself fell on my grandma. She wasn’t much for cooking outside of holidays. However, she continued to create large meals for us to consume at 2 p.m. SHARP every year.

In 2002, Jason and I went over there for another Thanksgiving meal. Dinner was served, and there was something terrible lurking in the gravy boat. It was an oil slick. Half was gravy, the other half a greasy layer of ick. I’m a big gravy fan and to say I was disappointed is a bit of an understatement. I don’t remember much, but I probably did my best to pull up the gravy from the bottom of the boat to slather my turkey, stuffing and potatoes with.

Fast forward a few hours and my grandma was resting in her room. Mom, my uncle, Jason and I sat around playing a game called Remote Possibilities and decide it was time for pie. I have to say, pumpkin pie is my all-time favorite pie. My grandma came out of her room and my mom headed off to the kitchen to serve it up. Jason and I were each served hearty slices of the good stuff. Jason took a bite and made an odd face. I wondered what his problem was because seriously, pumpkin pie doesn’t warrant that kind of reaction.

I got a nice big forkful, lifted it to my mouth anticipating a delicious bite of pie. Once said bite entered my mouth it only took a fraction of a second to understand why Jason had made that face. My grandma had forgotten to put the sugar in the pie filling.

My mortified grandmother suggested scraping out the pie filling, adding the sugar and pouring it back into the shell. Through our tear filled laughter, Jason and I decided to head down to the grocery store and pick up two pies for $4 and a bottle of wine.

I told my grandmother the pie filling would make a great pumpkin bread base but she just threw it away.

That dinner is still one of my favorite Thanksgiving memories, and I’m so grateful I still have my grandmother in my life. I feel very lucky for that. Even though she doesn’t live in SoCal anymore, and therefore I don’t get to share Thansgiving dinner with her, I make a point to call her and let her know I’m thankful she’s in my life.

So in closing, please accept this wish for you and your loved one as you gather around the Thanksgiving table. May your gravy be greaseless and your pies sweet!

How about you? Do you have any memorable Thanksgiving faux pas you’d like to share with the rest of us? Leave a comment and share with the class.

The question “When were you the happiest?” comes from my friend Tom over at http://bubalu.livejournal.com/

There’s a small star shaped spot somewhere in my heart that’s filled with memories of Tom. To this day I can’t go to San Diego without thinking of him, just a bit.

I’ve been mulling over this question since yesterday, and I’m still not any closer to an answer than I was when I first read it. I don’t know that I’m able to look back over the past 34 years and come up with a time that I was “the happiest.”

I could say my wedding day. Pick one, I’ve had two. I could say the day my child came into this world. Pick one, I’ve had three.

Maybe it was the day I graduated high school.

Or how about the day I got my drivers license?

It could have been Christmas morning when I was a child. Or maybe it’s Christmas morning with my own children.

Could it be the day my divorce (after being separated for over 4 years) was finalized and I was finally able to set into motion a plan to spend my life with the man I truly wanted to (and still do by the way) spend the rest of my days with?

Or how about the time I went to San Francisco completely alone and spent a few days with some of the most wonderful people in the city?

It might have been the day that I stopped crying after my grandfather’s passing and embraced the fact that he was finally at peace. He was no longer suffering and in pain.

I just don’t think I can boil it all down and have a single answer to such a complex question. I really don’t know.

I’ve had many, many times in my life when I’ve been completely happy. I guess I should consider myself blessed that I can’t come up with just one time I was the happiest.

However, I’d have to say that the day I married Jason and the 3 days my children came into this world rank up there pretty high.

So Tom, thanks for the brain melting inspiring question.

Lately I’ve been thinking about this space I call my “blog.” But it’s not really much of a blog at this point. WordPress tells me I have 246 posts, but I know there’s not a lot of substance here. It’s mostly a catchall for my Utterli posts.

So then, what do I actually want to do with this space? I guess I want to start blogging for real. The difficult part for me is thinking of things to talk about regularly. I have a livejournal account that I’ve kind of abandoned. There were too many “So today I did x,y,z” posts and to be honest, those are pretty boring. Does anyone really care that I did the dishes, did the laundry and went to the grocery store today? No, I didn’t think so. In fact, I’d drop that blog from my reader in a hot second if any of the blogs I subscribe to posted that stuff.

So if you’re reading this, I’d like to ask for your help. I need a jumping off point. Is there anything you’d like to know about me? Should I give a Jen history so you know where I’m coming from? I can’t even come up with any other questions to ask myself. That means until I get the hang of this, I need your input.

I know there are a few of you reading this and I’m counting on you to help me kick start this thing.