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This past Sunday, I did our bi-weekly grocery shopping trip to stock our house with all of the food we would need for the coming two weeks.

I know! You’re probably asking yourself what you did to deserve the reading of whatever fun and exciting exploits I had while shopping.

Well, nothing really. You’re no doubt putting forth the effort of recovering from Tuesday’s elections and I would not attempt to give you a heart attack by recounting for you my trip to Hy-Vee and whatever shenanigans I got into.

Which is to say, there were none and it was kind of dull anyway, unless you really are that excited by grocery shopping, in which case I purchased pears this time around rather than apples.

I began the process of shopping for Thanksgiving. For the last several years, we have been handling the hosting duties for Thanksgiving and at first I wondered what exactly I was doing.

In previous years I had a pretty good understanding of what cooking such a massive meal entailed and so was understandably, I think, apprehensive about taking all of that on in our own humble kitchen.

There’s only so much room on a normal night of cooking made infinitely more difficult by the fact that I often have two cats hovering around my feet who don’t seem to understand the words, “it’s not time to eat.”

I’m not going to lie, the first year was rough and zapped me completely. I’m not looking for sympathy mind you, because I know there are more of you out there that cook for a lot more than four people.

Still, it’s a massive undertaking that much to my surprise I find I really kind of enjoy. No, check that. Not kind of enjoy. Really enjoy.

I generally get started about 9 a.m. with getting the turkey ready, which I’ve discovered over the years a certain enjoyment of tinkering with a recipe outside of just shoving it in the oven and waiting for the little plastic indicator to tell me it’s done.

I’ve messed around with different seasonings ranging from simple seasoning salt to salt and pepper all the way through to a mad scientist’s version of a dry rub — all of them arriving at various orders of success that have rendered a pretty good bird if I do say so myself.

Lately, to something of a surprise, I have become obsessed with the gravy and have gradually been adding a variety of different ingredients and seasonings in an effort to create the base drippings for a truly wonderful gravy.

In fact, I would argue that gravy and not the bird, stuffing or any of the other accouterments to a truly great Thanksgiving meal, is truly the binding agent for it all because the gravy can be used in so many areas.

A good gravy can find its way in accenting the mashed potatoes, stuffing and the bird itself and there is something in that that I’ve found really enjoyable over the years.

And that’s what it comes down to. Yes the work is hard and long and leaves you somewhat wiped by the end of the day. But the process itself is mind occupying and is like one of those which-way books that were so popular when I was growing up.

Each meal and dish can result in any number of outcomes depending on how much you want to put into it.

From the moment I pour my first cup of coffee to beginning the work on the bird to starting the mashed potatoes. I really have found an outlet from the rigors of everyday life.

Really, it’s kind of hard to put into words in this column, but I think some of you who know might be smiling and nodding right about now because we are all in on the same secret.

At the end of the day, the meal is uniting. It’s a catalyst to friends and family.

I would say that makes the work worthwhile.