As we roll into November 22, 2025, today’s Thought of the Day and Question of the Day go hand in hand, gratitude, food, and the things we quietly (or not quietly) judge at Thanksgiving dinner. In today’s post, we’ll reflect on what it really means to be conscious of our treasures and dive into the highly controversial question of which Thanksgiving dish deserves to be banished forever. Spoiler: I have opinions. Strong ones.
Thought of the Day: “We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures.” — Thornton Wilder
Every year, Thanksgiving sneaks up on me like it’s been hiding behind the couch waiting to yell “boo.” One minute I’m carving pumpkins, and the next I’m Googling “how long can a turkey safely sit out while I search for oven mitts that the kids definitely stole for a fort.”
But Wilder’s line always stops me.
We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures.
It’s a good reminder that life doesn’t happen in the dramatic milestones. It happens in the tiny, “blink and you’ll miss it” moments, the treasures we only recognize when we slow down enough to actually feel them.
Like when Daisy attempts to help set the table and puts a spoon in the middle of every plate “just in case.” Or when Blaise asks a question so philosophical it could derail an entire dinner party. Or when Estella laughs so hard she turns purple and suddenly I forget every adult frustration I was carrying like a weighted backpack.
Those treasures rarely announce themselves. You have to tune your heart to the right frequency, the quiet one.
Thanksgiving, for all its chaos, gives us a built-in checkpoint. A moment to ask:
Am I paying attention? Or am I sprinting through my life like it’s Black Friday at Best Buy?
Gratitude slows you down just long enough to remind you that abundance isn’t something you chase. It’s something you notice.
For me, today’s Thought isn’t about forcing gratitude. It’s about widening the angle. Life is a lot bigger, and a lot more beautiful, than the part we focus on when we’re stressed, rushed, or overwhelmed.
Question of the Day: If you could remove one dish from the Thanksgiving table forever, what would it be and why?
Look, I know Thanksgiving is a sacred institution. I know everybody has that one dish they swear is “what makes it Thanksgiving.” But if I ruled the culinary world? The first executive order would be simple:
Ban. The. Can. Cranberry. Cylinder.
You know exactly what I’m talking about. That gelatinous red log that emerges from the can fully intact, ridges and all, like it’s auditioning for America’s Got Texture Issues. It doesn’t wiggle — it vibrates. No other food simultaneously looks like a candle, a jam, and a surgical mistake.
But even worse, and this is where people get mad, I’m banning raisins anywhere near stuffing. Raisins are a great food… in the sense that they exist somewhere on Earth. But in stuffing? Absolutely not. The moment someone bites into what should be a warm, herby, savory masterpiece and instead hits a sweet, sticky, chewy raisin… that’s a betrayal worthy of a Netflix documentary.
Raisins in stuffing feel like an ambush. They feel like the chef sat down and thought, How can I break this person’s trust in one bite?
Thanksgiving is stressful enough. Let me fight the turkey. Let me fight the oven. Let me fight with myself about whether I have the emotional resilience to make homemade gravy. But don’t make me fight raisins.
This whole question made me think about yesterday’s reflection in my post about the pettiest hills we choose to die on, and wow, the emotions are the same. Food brings out a very specific kind of righteousness in people, myself included.
And here’s the funny thing: while we all defend our food preferences like they’re constitutional amendments, the real heart of Thanksgiving isn’t in the menu. It’s in the people sitting around the table, trying their best. Even the people who bring raisin stuffing. Maybe especially them, because forgiving those choices has to count as personal growth, right?
At the end of the day, what stays with us isn’t the dishes we love or the dishes we’d banish into the sea. It’s the feeling of being surrounded by people who matter. That’s the real treasure Wilder was talking about.
Your Turn
What dish are you removing from the Thanksgiving table forever?
Tell me in the comments, I’m ready to debate this with the seriousness it deserves.
If you want daily Thoughts and Questions delivered straight to you, join the email list below. It’s a tiny moment you can count as a treasure each morning.
Leave a Reply