mariness

Happy Thanksgiving to all who celebrate -- and for those who don't, may your food of the day be marvelous and fulfilling, and your day filled with happiness and laughter anyway.

The greyness I usually associate with Thanksgiving vanished a couple of days ago. The sun appears to be in an apologetic mood. From my window I can see pink flowers bursting determinedly from the bougainvillea that died two years ago and decided to return, the orange flowers of the honeysuckle that, unlike every other plant in the front yard, is growing completely out of control (the others mostly look sad or weakly determined) even though it's the one plant we really don't want to have growing out of control since it's near the mailbox, the first hint of red appearing on the red maple, and a cat deciding that really, when it's this cold (by cat standards) the only thing you can do is crawl into the lap of the nearest person and tap their arms with your little paws until the person stops typing and scratches your chin instead, which is enough to warm up any cat.

I maintain all of this happened because we started Thanksgiving too early. Thanksgiving should not start unti at least 10 am. It is known. Anyway.

1. Day before: tgregoryt, who should know better by now, warns me of the morning start. Despite this, spend time making the vegetable dish that my mother has insisted on, using my genius for creating unhealthy foods to transform spinach into the single most high calorie, high fat, high cholesterol food at the table. While making dish, discover that the eggs are utterly possessed and refusing to do what eggs are supposed to do. Blame anaisis who had the identical problem earlier this week and has clearly cursed my eggs in revenge. Take comfort in my two types of gleaming, beautiful homemade cranberry sauce which will save my culinary reputation.

2. Wake up at an unholy hour for Thanksgiving and gather things into the car while playing my happy version of Dona Nobis Pacem.

3. My custard is leaking. This cannot bode well.

4. The leaking custards bode quite well for two cats who suddenly decide that they love and adore custard and should absolutely, positively have lots of it and cry when I insist on cleaning the custard from the floor. (I'm weird that way.)

5. Finally get leaky custard, scooter, sweet potatoes, wine, materials for pies, tennis rackets, tennis balls, and board games into car and pick up SD. Notice something missing from that list?

6. Two miles later, hear the happy sound of flashing sirens.

7. Pull over. Cop asks for registration, insurance and – in an alarming touch – for both tgregoryt's and SD's drivers licenses.

8. Sit. And sit. And then, for a change, sit.

9. Cop returns. Apparently, the state of Florida suspended tgregoryt's driver's license three days before, naturally, not bothering to inform him of this exciting little detail. Further inquiries show that his license was suspended for failure to pay a ticket in New Mexico, which, as it turns out, according to his credit union, he did, in fact, pay. In Florida, facts are messy things, and he is given a December court date and wished a very happy holiday.

10. Ah, the joy of Thanksgiving.

11. So now we have three people in a stick shift car, only one with a valid license. Naturally, that one would be the one with the least experience with driving stick. Question whether or not the cop would actually check my license and decide that now isn't the time to risk that.

12. SD starts driving the car, with a twist – the last time he drove a stick shift was back in India, where, of course, the steering wheel and the gear shift are on the other side, so he keeps trying to use his left hand to shift a non existent gear shift.

13. Return to the apartment. Move leaky custard, scooter, sweet potatoes, wine, materials for pies, tennis rackets, tennis balls, and board games into SD's car. Still fail to notice something missing from that list.

14. Evveeeeennnntttuuuaaaallllyyyyy arrive at my mother's, where we realize that we have forgotten the two types of cranberry sauce that will restore my culinary reputation. I let other people begin the great cooking while I lie down, lots.

15. My mother, a very, very enthusiastic football fan (she watches high school, college and pro) decides to start teaching SD the intricacies of football rules. I surprise everyone by making not one, but two correct statements regarding pro football. (Do not be alarmed, my readers: this sudden knowledge is, I assure you, an aberration.) I decide to lie down lots more.

16. gargoylerose and chattycatsmeow arrive for dinner. The menu: turkey, Amish stuffing, mashed potatoes with cheese, curried sweet potatoes, spinach strata, roasted potatoes and figs, and cranberry sauce from a jar, not from the two types of cranberry sauce.

17. This is far, far too much food for six people. All of it, however, is excellent.

18. Everyone does, however, decide that we could just possibly make room for dessert. Overall, despite the morning excitement, a most excellent Thanksgiving.

19. Eventually leave to discover that between our arrival and now, winter has arrived. COLD.

20. Collapse in bed. After moment of indecision, two small cats decide that it is too cold to hold grudges over the cruel removal of custard from little cats and the even crueler abandonment and failure to feed them turkey, and crawl beneath the covers.

21. This is a lot of cranberry sauce.