So instead of battling the masses at Target this morning (even though I really could use an inexpensive toaster, as my cute vintage 1970’s toaster recently went down in a cloud of smoke) I opted to sleep in and help my brother with his latest homebrew. This one should be ready in time for Christmas…in the meantime I enjoyed a bit of his latest batch, which is a delicious Irish stout that makes you think of coffee, crisp mornings, and…history lessons?

The point is, my brother is about a million times cooler than I ever will be, and I’m ok with that, as long as I’m allowed to help him make delicious beer.

Last year I spent Thanksgiving surrounded by a family of friends met abroad – it was a meal made up of dozens of traditions coming together, gathered from the markets of Barcelona and fueled by a sense of nostalgia at leaving a special place, excitement for our collective homecoming, and a heavy dose of Cava Mimosas. This Thanksgiving couldn’t look more different: I’m surrounded by close family and friends and the traditions I grew up with, nestled in a cozy rural place about as different from Barcelona as I can imagine. But the feeling is the same: a day isn’t enough to fit all the thanks I owe for what I have, but sharing a beautiful meal with loved ones is the best way I can think of to try.