For years, Thanksgiving traditionally meant heading to my aunt Mary's house on Cape Cod; it meant big, boisterous dinners with all four sets of aunts and uncles, my grandparents, my brother, and my cousins (first two of them, then three, then four, then five). Sometimes friends of aunt Mary's family would drop in, or school friends of my cousins -- one year we had two Japanese exchange students from my cousins' school with us.

They also meant cutthroat penny poker games after dinner; often with my aunts Ellen and Susan as a "team", or me and my cousin Kathy as a "team". Or us kids writing and performing little skits for the family after dinner -- Kathy was just as stage-struck as I.

There was also always turkey and stuffing, and cranberry-orange relish in a glass server set in a silver rack; my aunt Susan's mashed turnips, mashed potatoes and squash; there was apple salad, a big batch with raisins and a smaller batch without raisins (because my cousin Tom didn't like raisins, and so Mary made some without so others could choose). There was pumpkin pie and apple pie, and sometimes apple-cranberry pie, and chocolate cream pie because I was the huge chocolate fan; there were also little chocolate espresso beans and vanilla ice cream.

Then things started changing; when I was in college, Mary's family started moving to Tucson. They gave different family members things they had that they didn't want to pack; I got the cranberry-orange relish dish. Thanksgivings then became smaller affairs; my grandparents, two sets of aunts and uncles, maybe two cousins. My brother was now in Denver and didn't always come home; sometimes he ventured to Tucson to have Thanksgiving with Mary and George and that part of the family. Sometimes some of the western faction would come back east to be with us.

We had a lot of the same things, but now we were at my grandparents' house. Then a few years after that, it was my parents' house. Sometimes one set of aunt/uncle/cousins would be spending the holiday with my aunt Ellen's family instead. Then came the year that it was just my grandfather instead of both my grandparents.

Then numbers shrank a little more; then Grandpa started living in a nursing home. A couple Thanksgivings we had my uncle Peter's family pick him up and bring him home with us; Thanksgivings were all at my parents' house then, and we had to eat a little earlier than we had in the past. We started having some cranberry pudding with hard sauce at dessert sometimes, because my aunt Ellen had found a recipe and it just sounded too good.

Then the past couple years we finally went to having a restaurant Thanksgiving; Grandpa couldn't really get out of the home easily, so different family members would space out their visits with him before and after dinner, and we would meet at a restaurant Mom found that had a nice buffet. Sometimes there were just six of us. Then came the year that I had a show the following day, and my father said that yes, it would be okay if I just blew it off; I made a dinner for myself and two friends and called home instead.

And then there's this year. Everyone in the family is still a little poleaxed about Grandpa, and we've all collectively agreed to skip trying anything this year; we're all tired. My mother asked if that would be okay.

And honestly, I am. I've realized that the big constant in all of that is change; the "traditional family Thanksgiving" I've had has changed a lot in the past 30 years. Each year when things changed, we rewrote the rules depending on what the circumstances were; Tommy didn't like raisins? Okay, make some apple salad without them. Aunt Mary's moving? Okay, we'll be at Mom's house. Ellen found a great recipe? Sure, bring it. The Japanese exchange students are there? Okay, we'll show them what the stuffing is for, and maybe include miso soup this time so they're a little more comfortable. I'm making the dinner for only three people, and one is vegetarian? Okay, go with a small turkey breast, and a big batch of squash polenta and lots of vegetable dishes.

There are no rules. This year, I'll be spending the day by myself, dressed up in my flannel cowboy jammies, watching old movies and knitting. I'll be making a lamb stew with butternut squash, and maybe some cheddar-and-ale soup; I have some cranberry-quince sorbet made, and some apples and pears I can make some other kind of dessert with. There's no turkey, no apple salad, no poker, but -- this year, for me, this sounds just right.

Oh -- and some brownies. Because I'm still a huge chocolate fan.