Sunday, November 26th, 2017

Thanksgiving Truth 2017


I liked getting ready for Thanksgiving more than I liked the actual day and dinner.

The vintage dinner plates of my grandmother don’t hold our modern serving sizes so lots of spillage

One entire glass of redwine was spilled and I put a towel over it and on we went. I think I will name and date spills. I only use this vintage (again) lace tablecloth for Thanksgiving so why not decorate it with spills. Like my penchant for coffee stains. Life is imperfect.

The 18 pound organic fresh 100 dollar (yep–lucky I wasn’t the one that picked it up) turkey was dry and tasteless. Cooked fast and I didn’t allow enought jibber jabber time for appetizers. Butterball here I come. I want the little pop-up thing that tells you when the bird is done. Chemicals be damned,

We tried to do a blessing three times and the phone rang each time. Away kids doing thei call inr duty in a different time zone. Hot food trumped blessing. And why not say grace AFTER dinner??

My daughter and I did clink the cooked liver of the turkey together  and said, “Here’s to strong women.”  How this ritual started, I’m not sure–something to do with Native Americans.

Should have made more mashed potatoes. Should not have made roasted brussel sprouts and red grapes. Had cranberry ice with dinner as always was there in my extended family since before I was born. Like a granita.

I love the Macy’s parade. I taped it for kids to watch after dinner and after the after dinner walk during dessert. There were three kids one four year old, one five year old and one eight year old. They did not watch one second of the parade. First they had gotten into phones and iPads and sat on the couch in front of the TV looking at their own private screens. Devices were confiscated and off they went to play with a doll house (which pleased me no end) and only glanced at the parade when Santa came who they declared real after being skeptical of his jacket that looked too flouncy for Santa.

There were seven adults and three children. Just about right. A first time guest spent the night with us, Steve, father of my daughter’s boyfriend. His wife died six weeks ago. All others had left or gone to be but he stayed up with me and we watched TV and chatted and I did clean-up my way–during ads. It was a ten ad clean-up. It was a lovely moment of mutual comfort and musing and a lovely close to Thanksgiving.

The End




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