I get annoyed when people use the term “friendsgiving.” It’s like a new term that’s not even recognized by the dictionary that everyone wants to use when they are having a big get-together with friends that involves a roasted turkey, cranberry sauce, and stuffing. Why can’t we just call it “Thanksgiving?” Maybe the “family” I think about when it comes to Thanksgiving are the friends I invite over because my own family doesn’t celebrate Thanksgiving since they think it’s against the Jehovah’s Witnesses belief? I personally think the whole idea of being against celebrating Thanksgiving is so stupid and pointless. I understand people not wanting to celebrate Christmas or Hanukkah or Passover, but with Thanksgiving, it’s not even remotely religious. It’s just a meal that gathers family and oftentimes friends around foods like turkey and stuffing. What is the big deal here, and why on earth would it be considered against God? Sometimes I think that weak people just need to be told what to do and not do because they can’t be smart enough to think for themselves.

And if I want to call my Thanksgiving with friends a real Thanksgiving, I will. It’s the only Thanksgiving I get, and it’s my making (literally nine dishes this year plus an apartment to clean), so I can call it what I want to and correct people when they tell me that I’m hosting a “friendsgiving.” Family is what you make of it, blood relations or not.

A good friend of mine is an active volunteer for the organization Upwardly Global, and for the second year in a row, he’s organized the Silk Road of Queens food tour to raise money for this charity. The tour consists of 5-6 restaurant stops, where the group is able to sample the vast variety of cuisines and dishes that make up the borough of Queens. I loved the concept when he came up with it, particularly because I’ve always felt since I moved to Queens from Boston in 2008 that it was a highly underrated area to live and visit. Queens is probably one of the most diverse neighborhoods on the planet with the number of languages spoken, number of immigrants, and of course, its huge variety of restaurants, which frankly cannot be replicated probably anywhere else in the world. Manhattan can’t hold a candle to the sheer diversity of food that Queens is lucky enough to have.

This was my second year participating in the tour, and this time, I took Chris with me. We had some very interesting conversations with some of the other people who came on the tour, and we tried a number of restaurants that I’d definitely want to go back to, especially Fu Run, which is Northeast Chinese food (strongly influenced by the western Chinese provinces), and Stix, which is Uzbeki cuisine. We had everything from veal liver kebab at Stix to yak dumplings at a Nepalese/Tibetan restaurant to candied sticky taro and spiced cumin lamb chops at Fu Run. It was almost a struggle to keep up with all the food, but now I have an even longer list of restaurants I can’t wait to go back to. It’s really true what they say about living in New York. You could probably live here for something ridiculous like ten years and eat every single meal out — breakfast, lunch, and dinner — and still never eat at every single restaurant that existed here. This city is absolutely amazing. There’s always something new and different to eat.

Today, I indulged Chris and myself and went to have facials done in the afternoon. I think professional facials are extremely indulgent; in my whole life, I’ve only had three including this one. But it’s nice to pamper yourself occasionally, especially when you live in a city that is as polluted as New York is. And I suppose it could be argued that it is a health benefit.

The esthetician who worked on me today told me that my skin was in very good condition, and I had no signs of aging or wrinkling other than the expected expression lines that are expected of people my age. I don’t think I naturally have good skin; I broke out like crazy from the ages of 11-13, and I still occasionally get a pimple or two. I have huge pores, which I hate, but I guess it’s part of the package when you are Asian and your mom has big pores, too. I had the fear of God put into me from a young age that I needed to wear sunscreen on my face every single day, even on days when it’s gray and gloomy outside, because the sun’s rays will cause me premature wrinkling. I’ve done that since the age of 9. Maybe that fear of God has paid off. It’s like when my dad kept instilling the importance of putting away a sizable percentage of my income into my 401K. “You don’t want to retire and be poor, do you?” No, I don’t think anyone would answer that question affirmatively. It’s amazing how authority figures can instill fear in you to ultimately be good. But it’s nice when you can see it benefiting your life later.

I miss my old borough. Well, I don’t miss everything about it. I don’t miss the longer commute. I don’t miss how the general neighborhoods there are a bit seedier, the trains get less love from the MTA and so they run less efficiently, especially on weekends. But I do miss the food, the quality and the cheapness, and the variety of types of food that is just within a few blocks of each other. I miss my old laundromat, where the guy who worked there was always friendly with me, and he had the cheapest possible prices for the few times I actually did dry cleaning.

So after work today, I went all the way out to Elmhurst, my old neighborhood, and I picked up my favorite Indian Chinese takeout and dumplings — in the rain. That’s how much I wanted it and how much I missed the area. I got my boots wet and almost broke my umbrella from the wind, but I was so happy when I brought it all back to my apartment and ate. You can’t get Indian Chinese or dumplings of this quality on the Upper East Side. And if you did, it would probably cost two to three times as much. But realistically, that isn’t going to happen anytime soon.