it's a beautiful day and i'm supposed to be racing around readying for thanksgiving. but i can't stop feeling the thanks. isn't that what we're supposed to do? this whole season was built around it. but i keep trying to push it aside to plan menus, make lists and clean rooms.

i wouldn't be so rushed if it weren't for the company we've had for the last month or so. all welcome guests who gave us joy and enriched our lives. and now it comes down to the mundane righting of the household. today's society and its stipulations encroach and people say "hurry, or you won't get it all done in time". i know i'll give back. make a juicy turkey, a welcome atmosphere and, barring mishaps, tasty tempting side-dishes. i'm leaving desserts to the experts this year, as the sweet stuff always seems to be the straw that stresses me. i don't want to feel stress this year. i want to keep this feeling that i'm so lucky to have what i have, to have found what i've found, and to have kept the capacity to enjoy it all.

i'm 50 now. that thought comes through and all i feel is grateful. i've earned any lines, aches and cellulite that has formed in/around this body. i've earned the short-term memory lapses and jumbled thoughts that result from a life filled with times worth remembering and lessons well learned. i don't have the slightest urge to have anything nipped, tucked or enhanced. i'll keep it all. the aging process has brought me a new awareness of the luck i have that others do not. the gifts i keep and try to use when i can.

my computer's crowded with photos, journals and wishes. my greatest joys are simple ones: pen and paper play (blue ink, bold lines and flourishes), trying to finish just one more crossword puzzle before bed, collecting recipes, soft yarns, baking the perfefctly browned whatever, watching the dogs run up/down the walkway, abundant flowerbeds, sleepy saturdays, a good garage sale, listening to adventures told by my kids (whosever biological ones they are), laughing, music that moves me, a flattering outfit, all natural shades of green, a perfect sentence, an inviting scent, old movies, anything jimmy stewart did, honest people, funny friends, baby animals, my front yard, saying "we" instead of "me", grated cheddar, howard stern, mom's house and the memories there, family traditions, vibrant colors, the look of trust on a dog's face, brothers-in-law, balloons, pool parties, cool breezes on a hot day, wind chimes, sunsets, fireworks, piglet, my husband wearing his 'comfies', a good hair day, pride in my work, watching my soap, italian soccer, perfectly fried fish & chips, fruity drinks where you can't taste the alcohol, barbeques, silhouettes and having had granparents. so much more, but i think i've already won the contest for longest run-on sentence. i'd list them instead, but i don't like the look of lists - reminds me of to-do chore and shopping lists. thanks should flow and keep coming like pouring rain or the spicy finish of a perfect bite.

all the thanksgiving thoughts i've heard and read lately, felt forced to me. like they're supposed to happen now, so here they are. this morning they all hit and i'm warm with them. it's going to be a great day. thanks to all who've brought me here. time to get out the shopping list...

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just like gramma used to make

nothing brings me closer to both my grandmothers than having my way with the kitchen. i strive to recreate smells, tastes, inviting warmth and the love that both put into the most amazing italian meals. mixing old and new, vicdomino and longo, creativity and nostalgia - all into stockpots and baking dishes. all i can say is, well, yummy. not necessarily for my own versions, but for those inspirational to the methods used to create them.

two very different women, different levels of life, different looks entirely. commonalities include heritage and height - i take after both. i remember watching each get prepped and ready for their day: one with great care, very proper and detailed, the other with the fortitude of many women before her, with an "into the kitchen i go, doesn't matter much my looks while i'm there" attitude and tenacity.

each with different specialties. one made a MEAN sauce (or gravy as the die-hards call it), the other great attention to detail - antipasto platter just right - CHECK! lasagna bubbling in the oven - CHECK! the right amount of tempting side-dishes - CHECK! good to go. i take after both there too. more the latter i'd say, the sauce i'm still perfecting. i'm happy to say that i can feel their spirits near when i attempt to re-create their specialties.

gramma madoo (my baby version of mother, like my mom called her) was adept at the sweet stuff: baking. pignole cookies (that's pinion or pine-nut to the rest of you), harvey wallbanger and rum cakes (*hic*), even potato/peanut butter candy. along with chewy-doughy pizza (the way i love it!), a beautiful/bountiful table could be found at her glendale home.

gramma rose made the most tender, fall-off-the-bone meats. Along with a very dark, rich tomato sauce served with lots of crusty bread. She introduced me to the pungent tang of romano, still my choice over parmesan. a down-home atmosphere was always present in her burbank home.

add to that my dear great-aunt josie's incredible meatballs and pizzelles and i'd say my kitchen lineage is a most respectable one.

my style? no shortcuts, no canned sauces, no ready-mixed or prepared meats, always freshly grated cheeses and garlic bread with real garlic. all a novelty in today's hurry-up kitchens. a full meal takes more than one day, and those days started early and ending late. honestly? it gets harder with each year and my grammas made it look effortless. i know now that it was far from it. in my little girl's mind, dinner was always ready when we arrived, glimpsing only a small portion of the preparation and never allowed to participate for fear i'd be underfoot and hamper the process.

richness, fullness, love. no wonder i have 'portion issues'. but i wouldn't trade a bit of how i got here. with two loving women at the helm, missing them both more with each year since their passings, keeping their lessons close and dear. the most fondly remembered? "always use your hands to mix and mold the food - meatballs especially". in my opinion, that's where the love is added. gramma madoo insisted that several sized spatulas were always close at hand, but preferred to use her fingers to scrape batter from beaters or bowl. often washed and very well used, her hands. much like mine today.

love and miss you grammas and aunt josie. you are in me today, in gene and spirit. never forgotten, served up with each hearty italian meal.

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