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Every decade or two, families shift their gathering spot for annual Thanksgiving dinners.

Families get larger, more spread out and, frankly, traditions are meant to morph over time.

As a full-fledged adult, Thanksgiving has become my favorite holiday. No worries of shopping, wrapping gifts, wearing a costume or decorating eggs. And no silly arguments over what to call a parade.

The only expectations on this very American holiday are to show up, eat and be thankful.

Done, done and done.

But then, the shift happened.

After the passing of my grandmother, who always hosted Thanksgiving in my memory, the traditional feast fell to Mom. She did her time for about 15 years, and then dinner came to my home.

Even with the laid-back easiness of my family, there is stress in taking on the challenge of feeding a clan of at least 15 adults and a handful of little ones.

These aren't just any adults. This includes a family of hearty, robust-eating men who gauge time by the amount of food and football they can consume. Second helpings are the minimum.

With the guidance of wise women before me, I was given a few tricks and learned a few things to make it manageable:

Ask for help: There is no shame in saying, "I can't set aside the time or cost of feeding this quasi-army." Besides, it's nice to have my aunt's famed candy bar cake and Mom's artichoke dip. Plus, everyone can participate in the meal this way.

Be specific: Once, a beloved relative arrived with the ingredients for a casserole and another had dough ready for bread baking. I remembered to breathe deeply, smile and say thanks.

Ditch the children's table: My baby sister never scored a seat at the grown-up table. She passionately reminds us of this each year, claiming some psychological scar. Point made. Mix up the ages if you have multiple tables. I guarantee that 4-year-old will crack you up. Good chance you'll learn a family secret from an unwitting 7- year-old.

Go ahead with the Velveeta: Forget dropping from the menu the treasured broccoli-rice dish covered in processed cheese. It's expected and someone will complain if it's missing. Might as well keep it. And it's not bad in an omelette the following morning. Same goes for cranberries in a can, except the omelette part.

Paper cups and napkins: I'm not Martha Stewart.

Bowling: An aunt suggested this to mix up the day and make our bodies move. We aren't exactly the Kennedy-types playing touch football. So, for 10 years, we rolled a ball down a lane. My son is reviving it as "exercise." Close enough by my definition.

Open your doors: Through the years, there have been boyfriends, girlfriends, neighbors, co-workers and in-laws at our Thanksgiving table. The spirit of the day is to break bread with strangers. It's the best part.

Our dinners have become smaller as branches of our family tree grow in new directions. We're grateful - it's a sign of health and prosperity. Plus, we get the blessing of multiple meal invitations.

This year, my sister is taking over, and I'm thankful for her generosity.

To show my love, I have some dough ready and lots of Velveeta to bring. And I will happily sit with the kids.

(c) 2011 Tulsa World. Provided by ProQuest LLC. All rights Reserved.

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