We spent the Thanksgiving holiday at my mother-in-law’s house. This was the fifth out of six Turkey Days since I met Kathy that we’ve celebrated at her place. The other one was at our place here in Virginia. My last Thanksgiving with my siblings was in 2000, when I went to Georgia with a tub full of seafood from the restaurant I worked at, and took a photo with my other three sibs and their spouses/fiancée.
The trip down was a bad one. We left about two hours later than I thought we would. It rained on us the whole trip through, and Ian whined for most of the second half. Somewhere around Wilkesboro, I began fantasizing about the Canadian Club and cola that my mother-in-law proffers me whenever we first come to her house. Luckily, it was there the moment that we arrived.
Thanksgiving was about what you would expect; lots of food and plenty of camaraderie. As with previous years, I carved the turkey, and as I did last year, I made my extra-rich mashed potatoes and gravy. In fact, most of the adults in our house made something for the dinner. Carol did the turkey, green bean casserole and cranberry sauce. Julie made sweet potatoes, and pumpkin crisp for dessert. Kathy baked a pumpkin pie. Patrick made nothing, but he held down the couch pretty darn well.
For the second year running, Ian ate none of his Thanksgiving dinner. He did eventually have a crescent roll, but we just have trouble getting anything down his throat that isn’t carbs or chicken (“chickey,” he calls it.) I know turkey is close, but he doesn’t get that yet. Maybe next year we can introduce him to the “turkey nap.”
Pat and I spent a good bit of time on the couch watching football, and discussing the finer points of the sport. Julie and Kathy hung out some, but I really wish they had not decided to hold a deep ontological argument as I was trying to get some sleep in anticipation of Black Friday. I was up until 12:30 am listening to them talking. I finally closed the door between my “bedroom” (Carol’s office) and the living room, only to trap Abby, Pat and Julie’s dog, with me.
Abby soon wanted to go back into the living room, and began to growl to get me to let her out. The closed door also gave a subconscious signal to Kat and Julie that it was okay to continue their religious Chautauqua at a substantially louder volume level. I can’t remember if I fell asleep because they stopped talking or because I passed out from exhaustion. All I know is that the next thing I know, Pat was knocking at my door telling me it was 3:30 and time to go.
We drove back yesterday, because we wanted to beat this weekend’s traffic rush. The trip was much more pleasant and enjoyable than the trip down. We stopped at a truck stop/Taco Bell for our dinner, and while we were there, I saw what had to be the world’s saddest claw game. There was a distinct paucity of prizes to be won, and what was in there was nothing that I would willingly spend 25¢ for. When the “top” prize is a stuffed figure of Meg from Family Guy, maybe it’s time to do a little refill.
In any case, we’re back home and preparing for the Christmas season. Kathy has to take two trips over the next couple of weeks, and we’re planning to have an open house. It should be an interesting month.
Happy Holidays, y’all!