This Year I am Thankful for an Empty Nest...and Zombieland

For the first time in my fifty-odd years, I celebrated Thanksgiving without my kids, without the comfort of my parents, or my siblings and their extended families. Here, at last, the dreaded empty nest... 

I won't be alone per se, but I also won't have what I have come to see as a "normal" Rockwell-esque Thanksgiving. But I did have some time to prepare for this eventuality...

Rockwell's Freedom from Want ©1943

My original plan, let's call it Plan A, for dealing with no one being home this year called for taking an extended Thanksgiving break from work, flying to the East Coast, and spending the holiday with my parents, sisters, and their families, and my son and his girlfriend. I'd have still missed my two girls who were off doing other things (one with her fiancé and the other with her mother), but still, I had hoped it would be one of those old-fashioned family get-togethers filled with great food, fun games, and the occasional family angst (that always comes when everyone is brought together in such close proximity).

You know, all the elements that make for cherished memories...

As is often the case, real life got in the way of my best-laid plans. The first SNAFU was financial. With my youngest a sophomore at a wonderful(ly expensive) private liberal arts college and my oldest getting married in the Spring, rubbing enough nickels together to pay for a transcontinental Thanksgiving flight would mean adding to my credit card debt. If I am being completely honest, I would have done it, but it wasn't the right thing. However, the second Horseman of the Apocalypse, work, reared its ugly head. Unexpectedly, my boss went on a lengthy medical leave. This meant cutting what I had planned to be a ten-day trip down to just four (and traveling on two of the busiest and most expensive days of the year). Before the last two horsemen appeared, as much as I longed for that Rockwell-esque holiday, I decided to reassess Plan A - it just wasn't in the cards this year.

I started to think of ways to spend my time differently this year; let's call this Plan B... Four days off work, no real responsibilities, and a very strong desire to avoid Black Friday at all costs. Meaning I could spend four days hiking around Southern California, footloose and fancy-free. Maybe my long-delayed hike of the La Jolla Canyon Loop in Ventura County or the Backbone Trail near Malibu. However, a quick peek showed that Southern California's last couple of fires and the follow-on rainy seasons had resulted in many trail closures in the Santa Monica Mountains.  Thinking less grandiose, living in the foothills means plenty of hikes much closer to home. My decision was made; I planned to strike out and hike the 'Glendale trifecta' (the Verdugo Mountain Peaks, Cherry Canyon-Cerro Negro Loop, and Mt. Lukens Loop). About twenty-five to thirty miles of mostly quiet hiking in my backyard. Ace the Wonder Dog and I were set for our very own Thanksgiving #optoutside adventure...

Alas, Plan B was dashed by Mother Nature. A series of Pacific storms decided to race down the California Coast, making this year's holiday one of the coldest and wettest Thanksgiving weekends in Los Angeles in the past 15 years. While the cold would have been manageable, washed-out and muddy trails (and a twenty-pound Scottish Terrier/Schnauzer), don't mix...

On to Plan C... a scaled-down, traditional Thanksgiving dinner, maybe a movie, and some much-needed rest. A wonderful lazy, long weekend...As those of you who have ever prepared a "traditional" family Thanksgiving know, just the food prep and cooking is an all-day affair (I even started the night before), not to mention the dreaded dishes! So much for relaxing!

But slave away in the kitchen, I did (but I got to watch Zombieland while cooking). The menu was mostly my Mom's traditional recipes, with a couple of my own additions. Everything was delicious, if I do say so myself. But even with my efforts to cut all the recipes in half, there were still tons of leftovers - but I'll return to food later... I can hear you, gentle reader asking a question... "Zombieland, why on earth watch Zombieland as a Thanksgiving movie?!" My answer was, "Why not?"

But really, I generally avoid horror movies, almost like I would a zombie-inducing plague. That said, a few days before, I stumbled upon a really well-written (and positive) review of the Zombieland sequel Zombieland: Double Tap. The author raved about how funny the sequel was (and how much they enjoyed the parody-esque original). The review was so gushing I decided to see the new movie over my newly freed-up long weekend. But before going to see Double Tap, I naturally decided I needed to watch the original movie first...hence my cooking companion for the day.

Review

Zombieland directed by Ruben Fleischer
My rating: 3½ of 5 stars

Let me say what a treat this 2009 movie was to watch. Clearly, my disdain for horror movies has been misplaced, at least for comedy/horror/romance movies. Like most really good movies, everything starts with the script. Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick's story is wry, witty, and has snappy dialog (the kind I narrate in my head during "real" conversations!). The story here is coupled with quick pacing, and interesting visual overlays, including the '31 Rules' and Zombie Kill of the Week cuts by director Ruben Fleischer (in his feature directorial debut). His direction seamlessly ties excellent performances by the cast (Jesse Eisenberg, Emma Stone, Woody Harrelson, and Abigail Breslin) into one funny (not-so-scary) little (81-minute) horror/comedy film that one professional reviewer called a "balls out the entertaining movie." The blood and gore are there, but not so overwhelming, and certainly not just for blood and gore's sake (which is probably why I like this movie - did I mention it was entertaining?).

The comedic timing of the actors and human relationship story elements make up for some questionable decisions the characters make (seriously, in a world infested with fast-moving, light and noise-sensitive, flesh-eating zombies, why would you turn on all the lights and music at an amusement park?!). But this is a horror/comedy, after all... I thoroughly enjoyed the production, the "surprise" cameo in the middle of the movie, and the slow-mo gory scenes, which ended up being really fun.

Completely not what I had expected..with a name like Zombieland!! It changed my mind completely about this sub-genre of honor films, and I'd rank it up there with some of my other favorite screwball comedies like Kelly's Heroes, Big Trouble in Little China, The Great Race, and Dr. Strangelove. So, bring on Shaun of the Dead and Warm Bodies!

I know, I know, this probably sounds like a terrible Thanksgiving to the more extroverted personality types in my family, the ones who thrive on social activity (you know who you are!), but an excellent dinner, a funny movie, and time to myself, really worked for me..but next year I will finish those hikes, or at least head back East for a Plan A vacation!

To that end, this year, I am grateful not only for my family and the blessings of years of special holiday memories but also for some serious time to decompress and hang out alone (with some canine companionship). No real expectations, no responsibilities, and no worries (well, at least not many). I'm also thankful for Zombieland and the broadening of my movie genre palate.

Epilogue - 'Twas the Night After Thanksgiving...

I mentioned the food earlier; despite dropping from a 23/24 pound turkey to a 15-pound bird this year, there were still plenty of leftovers. But most importantly, the turkey carcass. With extra time on my hands (with few family obligations), I decided to try my hand at one of my Mom's old favorites, Turkey Carcass Soup. All of (or perhaps any of) my culinary skills are largely due to my Mom (thank you, I love you), so in an effort to get as many family recipes documented as possible, here is my take on her original recipe:

Turkey Carcass and Vegetable Soup

Ingredients

1 turkey carcass
4 quarts water
2lbs little (baby) potatoes (halved or quartered)
16oz baby carrots, diced
4-6 stalks of celery, chopped
2 14.5oz cans of diced tomatoes (I prefer the ones seasoned with basil, garlic, & oregano)
1 10oz bag of frozen peas
1 10oz bag of frozen corn
48oz turkey bone broth (chicken stock can be substituted in a pinch) - optional
1 tablespoon of garlic salt
1½ tablespoons of onion powder (you can substitute 1 large diced onion)

Simmering the carcass

1 tablespoon of Worcestershire sauce
1½ teaspoons of kosher salt
1 teaspoon of dried parsley flakes
1 teaspoon of dried basil
1 bay leaf
½ teaspoon of granulated garlic
¼ teaspoon of cracked black pepper
¼ teaspoon of paprika
¼ teaspoon of poultry seasoning
1 pinch of dried thyme

Directions

1. Place the turkey carcass (I also included the turkey wings) in a large stock pot and add the water; bring to a boil, reduce heat to simmer, cover the pot, and cook the turkey frame until the remaining meat falls off the bones (at least 1 hour, but even better if it can simmer overnight).
2. Use a wire strainer to remove the turkey carcass bones and separate the meat. 
3. Chop the meat (and look for small bones, especially ribs).
4. Strain the broth through a mesh strainer into a clean soup pot and add the chopped turkey (sans bones) back into the broth. Depending on the length of time you simmered the carcass (and your personal preference for the liquidity of your soup, you may want to add the turkey bone broth at this time. Bring the mix to a boil, then reduce the heat to a simmer.
5. Stir in the potatoes, carrots, celery, tomatoes, Worcestershire sauce, and dry seasonings and simmer for an additional 30 minutes.
6. Add in the frozen corn and peas and simmer for a final 30 minutes (until all the vegetables are tender),
7. Remove the bay leaf, and the soup is ready to serve.

Castles in the Clouds (Now with Structural Integrity)

Over the past seven years, I’ve had the honor—and let’s be honest, occasional heartburn—of watching each of my kids graduate from high school and make their way to college. And just this spring, I watched my youngest cross that stage, diploma in hand, looking ahead to college and new opportunities to perform on stage. Not long ago, I stood in similar crowds as both my oldest daughter and my son graduated from college in 2015 and 2017, respectively—she now heading to medical school, and he just beginning his professional journey. Five graduations in seven years. One by one, they’ve crossed stages and thresholds, each carrying their own hopes, anxieties, and a slightly wrinkled gown we definitely didn’t press well enough.

And with each of them, I found myself standing at the edge of something too—part pride, part panic, and part wondering: What now?

Not just for them, but for me.

Because no one tells you that watching your kids leave the nest doesn’t just mean you’ve finished building their launchpad—it means you’re suddenly staring at a big stretch of sky and wondering if it might be your turn again.

That’s where Thoreau comes in:

If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them.

I love that quote. It sounds dreamy at first, but dig deeper and it's rock solid. Dream big. But then—get to work. And not just once when you're young and fearless, but again and again as your dreams evolve. My mom actually gave me a card with that quote when I graduated from high school. At the time, I probably didn’t grasp the full weight of it—too distracted by tassels and the vague smell of barbecue from the grad party—but it stuck with me. Decades later, I see how right she was to press that wisdom into my hands. It’s not just advice. It’s a blueprint. One I’ve watched my kids begin to follow in their own way—and one I’m finally coming back to myself.

It reminds me, too, of a softer take from Little Women:

Wouldn’t it be fun if all the castles in the air which we make could come true, and we could live in them?

There’s something tender and hopeful in that. Because of course, dreams can come true—but not by accident. They’re built slowly, intentionally, with more elbow grease than fairy dust. That’s what I’ve tried to teach my kids. And what I’m still learning myself.

Watching my kids head off into the world reminded me that dreaming isn’t a phase—it’s a practice. And while they’ve been sketching out the first spires of their castles, I’ve been quietly digging up some blueprints of my own—the ones I tucked away years ago under a pile of permission slips, grocery lists, and sports schedules. Dreams don't expire, it turns out. They just wait for quieter mornings.

Still, this post isn’t just about me dusting off old ambitions. It’s also a note to my kids—and anyone else standing on the edge of graduation, or reinvention, or just the next big thing.

If I could give you one more speech (the kind you don’t have to sit through in a folding chair), I’d borrow heavily from Paul Graham’s brilliant essay, What You’ll Wish You’d Known. It’s the kind of advice that skips the clichés and gets to the good stuff. So here goes:

1. You don’t have to know what you want to be.

Seriously. You’re not behind if you don’t have a 10-year plan. Let curiosity lead for a while. Try things. Follow what fascinates you. Most people don’t find their path—they stumble into it while doing something else.

2. Work hard at things that feel fun to work hard at.

This is the secret sauce. Don’t chase status. Chase flow. If you find yourself losing track of time while building something, learning something, fixing something—that’s a clue.

3. Don’t be afraid to be bad at something.

The early stages of any good project—whether it's a podcast, a physics degree, or a life—are messy. Ugly, even. You have to wade through awkward to get to awesome.

4. Pay attention to the things that bother you.

What frustrates you about the world? What would you change? That’s often where your purpose lives. Don’t be afraid to ask, “Why is it like this?” and then go fix it.

5. You’re not locked in.

Change your major. Change your mind. Change your definition of success. Anyone who tells you that you have to pick a lane at 18 probably sells traffic cones for a living.

And to my kids specifically—thank you. For letting me walk alongside you as you started your own builds. For teaching me that dreams are not a one-time event, but a renewable resource.

Because watching you chase your castles has reminded me: I’ve got some unfinished architecture of my own. And now, with a little more time, and a lot more perspective, I’m putting those foundations in.

So wherever you are—clouds, sky, or air—keep building. Keep learning. Keep asking better questions. And don’t worry if the blueprint changes along the way.

Oh—and come home sometimes. I’ve got snacks.