My mother always hosted Thanksgiving dinner. Her house was more or less central; we had all grown up there, it was Home. As the only daughter, I ended up doing most of the cooking, but I didn’t mind; this was the kitchen I learned how to cook in, and I have always felt that Thanksgiving dinner is the easiest meal of the year to cook - you don’t have to to think about it; it is what it is, and don’t you dare change it! One year mother insisted that I take the turkey carcass home with me (1 1/2 hour drive) because she couldn’t face any more turkey broth. She was unable to consider throwing out the carcass, but she couldn’t face having more broth in her freezer. I took it home, but my husband said “never again”, because of the smell, in the car. I take after my mother: I cannot throw out bones that could make broth or soup. I actually tried it once; my freezer was full, I had a chicken carcass, I had the garbage bag open and ready to accept it, and wasn’t able to do it. Chicken stock was made, and room was found. And I realized I was, indeed, my mother’s daughter.