The first Thanksgiving I was with my now ex-husband we were invited to his aunt and uncle’s house for dinner. Growing up in South Florida, I had heard the phrase Cuban time a lot, but I never really got it. Basically, the theory is that Cuban people are usually late. So, I should have known to have a snack or lunch before going to their house, but I didn’t. Since it was Thanksgiving, I assumed we would eat early, like at dunch or linner time. I didn’t truly understand Cuban time until that Thanksgiving in 1992.
Ask any of my family or close friends and they will tell you epic tales of my hanger. I don’t do meal skipping well. I’m pretty sure that I could become a mafia henchman if I just skipped a meal or two. Breaking legs would be therapeutic with my level of hanger. So, it was a huge mistake to skip lunch. Huge.
Want to read more about my HANGRY, bilingual Thanksgiving? Come on over to Knot So Subtle.