Happy Thanksgiving!
I hope everyone's turkey day was better than mine. I've been fighting a cold that my husband gave me, and spent the day in bed napping and watching the first four Puppetmaster movies.
As I lay in bed, rubbing Ben Gay on my chest because I couldn't find the Vapo-Rub, I thought about what my family might be up to at that very moment. Dad, of course, would be eating all of the shrimp cocktail, while Mom ran around trying to get dinner ready for 2 PM. This, of course, would be a ridiculous goal, as she only has two ovens and six burners to get two turkeys and 23 different side dishes prepared and all hot at the same time at 2 PM. My sister would be sipping coffee and consoling my brother-in-law, who would not have seen any deer when hunting at 4 AM with my father. (This is not unusual. Nobody, not even deer, want to be up at 4 AM on Thanksgiving Day, trekking around in the woods in the freezing cold, something the hunters in my family haven't seemed to learn yet.) My Aunt Joanne would be playing with my two nephews until their cousins arrived, allowing her to collapse by the cheese-and-crackers tray and catch her breath until the kids realized they would need an umpire/goalie/floating player for their kickball game. (Why the boys buy my "sorry, I'm just too old" excuse while my aunt trots out there in 40 degree weather, kicking balls and stealing bases, is beyond me.) My sister's in-laws, whom we have all adopted as our extended family and share holidays with, would arrive with corn pudding and two casserole plates full of cheesy potatoes. Will Martha notice that she has more leftovers than usual this year, since I often consume most of one casserole dish of cheesy potatoes all by my self? Will my mother save me some, or is she the other cheesy potato over-indulger in our family? I might have to get out of bed and drag my feverish, coughing body over there right now!
My attempt to crawl out of bed, shower, and head over to my parents' house fails when I cough so hard that one of my lungs actually dislodges from my chest cavity, travels up my throat, and flies across the room, landing with a messy "splat" on Pugsley the cat. Okay, I get it. No cheesy potatoes for me today.
Sadly, my family had a wonderful Thanksgiving without me while I slurped on turkey soup and watched stringless puppets attack and kill bad people. I was hoping for a little wailing and "Why, oh why, can't Stacey be here with us? It's not fair, God!"
But no. The report from Mom later that night was that everyone had a lovely time. Not one tear shed over my absence.
The good news is, Mom saved me a plateful of cheesy potatoes. So the holiday wasn't a total bust.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
I hope everyone's turkey day was better than mine. I've been fighting a cold that my husband gave me, and spent the day in bed napping and watching the first four Puppetmaster movies.
As I lay in bed, rubbing Ben Gay on my chest because I couldn't find the Vapo-Rub, I thought about what my family might be up to at that very moment. Dad, of course, would be eating all of the shrimp cocktail, while Mom ran around trying to get dinner ready for 2 PM. This, of course, would be a ridiculous goal, as she only has two ovens and six burners to get two turkeys and 23 different side dishes prepared and all hot at the same time at 2 PM. My sister would be sipping coffee and consoling my brother-in-law, who would not have seen any deer when hunting at 4 AM with my father. (This is not unusual. Nobody, not even deer, want to be up at 4 AM on Thanksgiving Day, trekking around in the woods in the freezing cold, something the hunters in my family haven't seemed to learn yet.) My Aunt Joanne would be playing with my two nephews until their cousins arrived, allowing her to collapse by the cheese-and-crackers tray and catch her breath until the kids realized they would need an umpire/goalie/floating player for their kickball game. (Why the boys buy my "sorry, I'm just too old" excuse while my aunt trots out there in 40 degree weather, kicking balls and stealing bases, is beyond me.) My sister's in-laws, whom we have all adopted as our extended family and share holidays with, would arrive with corn pudding and two casserole plates full of cheesy potatoes. Will Martha notice that she has more leftovers than usual this year, since I often consume most of one casserole dish of cheesy potatoes all by my self? Will my mother save me some, or is she the other cheesy potato over-indulger in our family? I might have to get out of bed and drag my feverish, coughing body over there right now!
My attempt to crawl out of bed, shower, and head over to my parents' house fails when I cough so hard that one of my lungs actually dislodges from my chest cavity, travels up my throat, and flies across the room, landing with a messy "splat" on Pugsley the cat. Okay, I get it. No cheesy potatoes for me today.
Sadly, my family had a wonderful Thanksgiving without me while I slurped on turkey soup and watched stringless puppets attack and kill bad people. I was hoping for a little wailing and "Why, oh why, can't Stacey be here with us? It's not fair, God!"
But no. The report from Mom later that night was that everyone had a lovely time. Not one tear shed over my absence.
The good news is, Mom saved me a plateful of cheesy potatoes. So the holiday wasn't a total bust.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
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