I don't typically actively miss America. I mean, of course I miss my friends and family and certain places and foods and conveniences, but unless I purposely delve into homesickness (which I don't) feeling sad about living so far away from those things is by no means an everyday occurrence. On Thanksgiving, however, I ache. I've tried recreating the meal with some success in years past but the atmosphere in my grandparents' house on this day is irreplaceable. And listen, okay, I'm not trying to make you feel sorry for me or anything, but I'm not even doing the meal this year and since The Swede is away at a very important football match this evening Jamie and I had McDonald's for dinner. And the only similarities to a real Thanksgiving dinner were the good company and the awful feeling of fullness and overindulgence.