Thanksgiving News

First, I hope everyone had a lovely Thanksgiving, as we did. We assembled this year at the home of Wonderful Niece and her Wonderful Husband, who were delightful hosts, and we all brought food and all of it was kick-ass. My sister sat somewhat in a fog, but she was there. Sitting across the table from her, I could really see that she is not in good shape. She says it's the fibromyalgia that makes her foggy; while I don't doubt that, I have it too and it's just manifesting differently in me. I'm not in a fog, I just have pain, and I'm limited in what I can take for it. She takes meds that eliminate most of the pain, but it's as if she's always moving through molasses. We all need time to work things out, I guess.

The big news, which R shared with us all Friday morning, is that after she and her Gentleman Friend got home from our Thanksgiving dinner, he proposed and gave her a lovely ring, an aquamarine, which she wanted in place of a diamond. My baby is engaged! YAY! WOW! We could not be happier. They're thinking of a wedding next October or November, so we have a long way to go with that, and knowing my kid, it will be non-traditional in many ways. She's already looking at non-traditional wedding gowns. That's my kid, all the way.

My FIL is still in the hospital, although improving, I believe; I think he's now in a room that's the last step before being released to a rehab facility. Even so, it seems that he still thinks he's in charge, and tells them that he won't take certain meds or do certain exercises, and they let him get away with it. In the meantime, yesterday the Hubs and I and his sister and her husband took the MIL to see a new community to consider moving to. It's twenty minutes away from us and fifteen minutes away from them and it is GORGEOUS. I would move there now if I could. I'll go into more detail should they decide to go there, but let me just say that it is perfect in every single way, other than leaving their current friends behind, but this new place is all about community, and the ILs are very social people, so they'll have no trouble making new friends, as they did when they moved to where they are now. I hope hope hope it all works out and they go there. It would be the perfect place for her to be when his time comes, and she's without him.

We were having the most perfect weather, not a bit of cold, all through Thanksgiving night, and then we woke up yesterday to chilly wind and lower temps. It's nasty outside, although it's beautifully sunny today, unlike yesterday. On Thursday, I didn't even throw a jacket over my t-shirt/denim shirt uniform, and I didn't even need it when we left to come home. Today, not so much. I go outside for a minute, and my short, short hair is all standing up, like I'm in a Little Rascals movie and I just stuck my finger in a socket. Not attractive.

Okay, so I'm going to change a wash and see what else is going on. No stores for me this weekend except the supermarket.




watching L/O :: ENTRY #2136
READING: New York by Edward Rutherfurd

Did Everybody Have a Nice Day?

I hope you all had the day you wanted. I had, basically, the day I've always wanted: Thanksgiving without aggravation. Yes, the pumpkin pie was awful, but the Hubs ate a piece anyway, and I made two nice ones this morning.

I had pumpkin bread for breakfast, toasted, with butter on it. We went to the Hubs' aunt and uncle's for lunch, and had the world's best leftovers, because Aunt is the world's best cook, still, at nearly 80. The pumpkin pie I had there was excellent, and was made by her 17 year old granddaughter, so I'll have to see later how mine stacks up. Right now, I've got a plate of veggies (mostly gone(, cornbread stuffing (never had that before, Niece tried it out), and sweet potato/marshmallow thing (saved for last.) I have my sister's rice pudding in the fridge for dessert (a little vanilla soy milk on that should be delish), and of course, for when I get peckish in an hour or two, pie.

***sigh***

(I'm eating a brussels sprout now. Pray for me. I love the sprouts, but I think they will not be good for my situation. We shall see.)

So I had a lovely two days, although the oddness of the ILs was in the air this morning, but I know it's that they're getting old. Without details, they change plans and assume that everyone else is cool with that, has no other plans, no other life. Partly, this is because the FIL was a chief executive-type, and this is indeed what they assume, and partly because they're old and they forget. The MIL told me today she's going to have to have a knee replacement, and although the surgery doesn't scare her at all, she teared up at the thought of not being there to look after the FIL every minute. He is much less mobile and much more dependent on others. I can see why she's worried. If she waits until summer to have it done -- she has no timeframe yet -- we can all pitch in, but if she has it sooner than that, I think their one grandson, who is out of college but not settled into a good job in his field yet (although he works) may have to go live with the old gentleman while she's in rehab.

I didn't sleep well again last night but was at least able to sleep until 8:00. When I got up I was too tired and sore to move, let alone exercise, but I did a little this afternoon when I was showing the whole thing to my sister. K's been relaxing with the Guitar Hero for the last hour or more before starting on a project for school, so I guess I'll get another shot at it when she stops to eat and get to work.

My mission for the weekend is to pack up leftovers in lunch portions so I can just grab them in the morning and go. I'm not going near a store unless I can get to Target really early on Sunday; I have a few things to return.



WATCHING K Playing Guitar Hero :: ENTRY #1922
READING: The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd

Giving Thanks

You are all very welcome, and I thank you as well for being there and my buddies. What I was thinking when I wrote that was more along the lines of

Thank you to my sister for having us all in her house today even though it drives her crazy but she loves it anyway.

And that made me think of other thank you's I'd like to throw out there into the wind, and here they are:

Thank you to Shirl and Jack for being very good, although very quirky, parents, and for living as long as they did so I could be the person I am.

Thank you to my wonderful, even quirkier grandparents, for being part of my life and making it that much richer and fuller. You are all part of my everyday, even all these years later.

Thank you to my husband, who may take the quirky prize, for putting up with me, his chief contender, and for never caring in 31 years if I ever cooked or especially, cleaned.

Thank you to whatever powers may or may not be for matching up the particular sperm/egg combos that gave me these neat kids, even though they sometimes drive me crazy. Thank you to them for growing up into decent human beings.

Thank you to the GF for making R happy.

Thank you to K for persevering and getting her teaching certificate and Master's degree at the end of next semester.

Thank you to my sister for raising such incredible children virtually on her own.

Thank you to Dr. Harold Hess, wherever he happens to have moved to, for getting the tumor out of my brain nearly 17 years ago.

Thank you to Dr. Resnick for my not being in pain today, or since September, really.

Thank you to the stock market, and for us never having enough money to invest in it.

Thank you to the voters of the United States, for obvious reasons.

Thank you for the United States, and for being born here, and for my grandparents making those difficult journeys a hundred years ago.

Thank you to Diaryland, which I no longer use, but which opened up a wonderful world to me, without which my life would not be what it has become.

Thank you to Ginny, and lexapro, not to mention the existence of all those blood pressure and cholesterol meds and stuff.

Thank you to Apple. I love my iPhone. And my Mac.

Going in to baste the bird, and assemble the sweet potato casseroles. Everybody, I wish you exactly the day you want to have today.

XOXOXO

Rosanne

WATCHING DEGRASSI :: ENTRY #1921
READING: The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd

Thanksgiving at DEFCON One

I just put my vegan pumpkin pies in the oven. These are obscenely easy to make, because it's just blending the tofu smooth and adding it to canned pumpkin pie filling. Years ago, I made my pies completely from scratch, and when the Hubs went vegan, I substituted the tofu for the eggs and the milk, and I bought Kosher frozen piecrusts because they don't use butter or other animal shortening. Then one year I got this fabulous pie filling, so I started using that, and didn't add my own spices and stuff. But this year, it wasn't blending well, couldn't figure it out. I had to re-blend and re-mix a couple of times to get it smooth. Then when I was cleaning up, I noticed that I hadn't gotten pumpkin pie mix, just canned pumpkin. So, oops. Surprise!

Otherwise it's going well, and I just talked to my sist4er and it's going well there, too. I did stay home today, slept until 7:30 and did my workout, and then ran around doing things I needed to do. I did get a lamp at Target. (We do have a Lowe's nearby, but it's so new, that I always forget it's there.)

My living room is neat, my kitchen is neat, my pies, such as they are, are in the oven, and since I got a fresh turkey, I don't even have to worry about defrosting. I've also done a lot of gift ordering today; my email inbox looks like an endless list of "Amazon has received your order!"

Well, it smells good, anyway. Have a lovely Thanksgiving, one and all, and don't forget to thank someone.

WATCHING L/O :: ENTRY #1920
READING: The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd

Wiiiii!

Here I am, thanks to Cosmic, who created her impression of me on the Wii! I haven't gotten to it yet today, but I hope to a little later. And yes, this is exactly what I really look like.

I slept until almost eight this morning, at least sort of, for me, so when I got up I did not pass go, did not collect $200, but got dressed immediately and went to Whole Foods to get a turkey. I don't know if I mentioned it, but R and K were after me to order this year's turkey from a farm -- there is actually a turkey farm fairly close by -- so that we would get something locally raised, no preservatives, etc. I agreed, but never remembered to go order it; I probably would have had to order it in July. But K saw free-range, chemical free turkeys at Whole Foods the other day, so that was the next best thing.

Of course, I assumed it would cost more than a Butterball, but I didn't give it much thought until I looked at the label and saw that my just-under-fifteen-pound turkey cost over $56.00! So today, when I ask you Am I crazy or what? feel free to go with a resounding YES! If my father can see this wherever he is, he is appalled and horrified. Hey, it was only a few years ago that we stopped getting the free turkey from Shoprite. (You know, x amount of dollars worth of receipts over x number of weeks and you got a free house brand, or a Butterball for 29 cents a pound.) Thanksgiving around here is nearly as expensive as Christmas.

K was flinging out gift ideas for people I need to buy for today; I was madly scribbling them down. All I need now are ideas for ... let's see, my husband and children and my in-laws, who are of course, the biggest gift receivers. But it's nice to have all the others taken care of, even if I have a little shopping to do. I don't mind the shopping; it's the ideas that are hard.

So I have many errands to run after school tomorrow, which all could have been done today if the stores here were open on Sunday, which they are not. And yes, we also don't pump our own gas in New Jersey; it's not a custom, it's the law. Things are strange here, I'm thinking.

I'm thinking that if they cut open my brain after I'd dead, preferably not before, they will find that it's about 45% I Love Lucy. There's a marathon on this weekend, and I've had it on in the background for hours and hours, both yesterday and today. And I've been watching these same shows literally since birth. I still think it's funny. So there's today example of brain damage, I guess.

And IT'S SPIRIT WEEK at school. Yay. This used to be such a big deal for me, when I was junior class advisor, and now I just want them to leave me alone. But I will wear school colors Monday and Tuesday, and my football jersey on Wednesday. (Seniors buy football-jersey-like shirts to wear for Spirit Week, all with their class year on the front for the number, and they go get their names on the back. One year, I had a shirt made with my number -- 71 -- and my name on the back. I also have both of the girls' shirts, so I could wear a 99 or an 02, if I so chose.)

It must be officially winter today, because the Hubs made soup. I think I'll have some for dinner, and if I don't die (veggies, beans, etc.; smells heavenly), I'll take some for lunch tomorrow, too.


WATCHING I LOVE LUCY :: ENTRY #1917
READING: The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd

Thanksgiving Rerun

A few days ago, Lena wrote about her the first turkey she cooked, and invited others to share their stories. I thought I might have done that before, so I checked the dland archives, and of course I did, although it's really more the general story of our first Thanksgiving. The day after, I wrote about our continued Thanksgiving traditions. So here they are.

From November 26, 2003

Thanks

Back in the pleistocene age, circa 1977, the Hubs and I were just married, living in a garden apartment (is that a universal term, I wonder, or local?), and I claimed Thanksgiving for my own.

My in-laws would have Christmas. My parents would have Passover, although they rarely, and then never, claimed it. Thanksgiving was the all-American holiday, the one I could reasonably claim to sponsor in my mixed-marriage household, when such terms still applied to such trivial things as Jewish-Catholic. I wanted to have a Norman Rockwell beautiful holiday. In those days, I still cooked, I read all the home magazines, I had all the accoutrements of the newly married: pots, pans, basting bulbs, nice dishes, stemware. I was psyched, man.

There would be eleven of us: the hubs and myself, my parents, his parents, his sister and fiance, my sister, the first husband (Satan J) and her adorable three year old, J1. Of course, her future offspring, J2 and J3, were there in that she looked like she was about five years pregnant and could barely move at the time.

My mother was just about to head into a bipolar downer and so was unavailable for help with recipes, serving tips, and all that. In fact, we had had Thanksgiving out in a restaurant with close family friends for about ten years by then. I don't really remember a Thanksgiving held in our own house in my childhood.

So I got cooking tips from all the old pros at work, and I got ready. I got cheesecloth to cover the turkey with, which I still do. I was, as they say, loaded for bear.

I discovered that morning, I think, that the oven in our apartment had two settings: off, and, like the oven in Mickey's house in DisneyWorld, VOLCANO HEAT! So once the oven was on, baby, did it get hot in there. By the time our guests arrived, we had every window open and we were wearing shorts and tank tops. And it was your typical New Jersey Thanksgiving weather, not this weird Indian summer-like thing that we're having now. If we stepped out onto the front porch, the sweat froze on our skin.

Anyway, so there we were, ten sweltering adults packed into an apartment that, as it turns out, should really have held about six, and one hyperactive and charming child, who carromed around the room from adult to adult like a pinball on speed. The turkey, as you might guess, was a little dry. Otherwise, there was only one other disaster to speak of: the pecan pie that my sister-in-law made never quite gelled. It was her first try at a pecan pie, and she was embarrased. I might point out that she is now one kick-ass pie maker, and actually had a business making and selling pecan pies a few years ago. Funny.

So that was it. Except that a couple of weeks later, my sister had her unexpected twins and then went into a coma and then woke up a week later with amnesia. Just like in a soap opera. I'm sure I've told this tale before.

It was a few years before all her memory came back, although most of it did, gradually. It came back from the beginning: first she remembered her childhood, and so on. She was sorry, though, that she ever did remember Satan J. Hehe.

Here's how we knew when it all came back. From time to time, my father would ask her if she remembered the Thanksgiving before the twins were born, since it was the last notable thing that had happened, only weeks before. She didn't. He would ask every few months, I guess, and then he forgot to keep asking. But once, it might even have been five years later, I was watching something on TV with the Sibs and there was something on about pecan pie.

Not thinking at all, except about pecan pie and how good it is, I asked somewhat absently "Didja ever have pecan pie?"

And she answered, just as absently, "Oh, only once, but it never gelled, remember? And it was so hot that day."

We looked at each other and looked and that's when we knew that it had all come back.

And that, and the fact that Thanksgiving is the Immigrants' Holiday, and I am the offspring of immigrants, as are we all as Americans, is the reason that I love Thanksgiving so much. What do we do for Thanksgiving now? Tomorrow.

From November 27, 2003:

We Have No Imagination

After the first one, we have the same Thanksgiving every year. Starting with that second year, my in-laws went off to my newly married sister-in-law, and have remained there. So it was something we hosted for my side of the family. Gradually, my mother and sister began to make and bring some of the food. Then my mother slacked off. Then when my mother first became ill, and was diagnosed in September, the doctor said she might not be with us for Thanksgiving, which was a really big deal to us. When she was, we shifted, and had it in her apartment, since it was easier for her. And then she stuck around for seven more. By then, we would have it at my sister's house: more room to move around, easier for my folks. Last year we were without Shirl, but had Thanksgiving at the apartment because it was easier for Jack. The Sibs and I still brought every bit of food. This year, the first year without Shirl and Jack, not to mention that J1 is still in California (he flew in last year) and R is over the sea.

But we've done it virtually the same way for so long, that when J1 first moved out there nearly 10 years ago (no. can't be.) and he asked me to send him some recipes, I sent along a letter that included all of our customs as well. I've since shared it with others in the family; I even sent a copy to R in Wales this year, although so much of it no longer applies. Here's the abbreviated, pseudonymed, version:

Dear J1,

As you know, we have many customs and traditions that we follow each year at Thanksgiving. I know that you're most interested in the food, so I'll start with that.

-- turkey - get a butterball, and follow the directions.
-- stuffing - your uncle makes his trademark vegetarian/Italian stuffing, and the recipe will go to the grave with him. Actually, he makes it up each year, so you're as likely as he is to come up with a good one.
-- 1 or 2 cans of jellied cranberry sauce: In keeping with tradition, every other year or so you will forget to put this out on the table.
-- Heinz turkey gravy in a jar: If you get one jar, everyone will want gravy and you won't have enough. If you have two jars, no one will want gravy this year, and it will remain in your refrigerator until it has taken on a life of its own.
-- pumpkin pie: I make a vegan pie so that your uncle can eat it. If I were you, I'd go to the supermarket and buy a frozen Mrs. Smith's pie.
-- String Bean Casserole with little crunchy onions
-- Grandma's Sweet Potato Casserole with the little marshmellows on top: I'm making it this year, and the recipe is anyone's guess.

That's what we eat. Other things you should remember for a traditional Thanksgiving are:
-- Thanksgiving actually begins a week earlier when Grandpa suggests that we use paper plates, have turkey parts only, and gives us a hundred bucks to pay for all the food that he says no one ever eats.
-- Grandpa always sits at the little table with the kids so they won't feel stigmatized.
-- J2 always sits facing the t.v.
-- K always sits next to J1.
-- No one ever wants to sit across from Grandma.
-- Grandpa always arrives first. He brings a jar of macadamia nuts.
-- J1 always arrives last. You never even knew that Grandpa always brings a jar of macadamia nuts.
-- J1 always arrives last. So, whenever you get there, you can start eating.
-- There is never enough room at the table, which is always in danger of imminent collapse.
-- The ultimate Thanksgiving experience is when the Cowboys are playing the Redskins.
-- At some point in the meal, Grandpa gives all the kids money. He used to give everybody a roll of quarters, but now he gives a $20.
-- Someone -- anyone -- must bring up the subject of body piercing. No one knows how this recently became one of our traditions, but it seems to be important, although no one knows why.


And as for this last item, it seems somehow fitting that just last year, Jack's last year with us, J1 outed his sister and cousins for their various naval and tongue piercings, and tattoos. Just a nice little bit of closure.


WATCHING WIFE SWAP :: ENTRY #1915
READING: The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd

And a Lovely Time Was Had By All

We had a perfectly perfect Thanksgiving, which means the traditional aggravation was there as well, although in minimum amount, so I guess that was okay. We had no pre-holiday angst from my sister this year, although she did tell me when we arrived that she had had a meltdown earlier in the afternoon due to being overwhelmed by it all. She neglected to mention, though -- she told me today -- that when she melted, she went to lie down and her kids took over everything, so it was all fine. Yeah. Coulda mentioned that to me last night. But hey, no harm, no foul.

Anyway, while we are the table, I became aware of what it is that I so love about this holiday. It was when I realized that everyone at the table was laughing. Which is what we do, pretty much, from start to finish. So it was an excellent Thanksgiving. Yes, I missed my parents, and I suppose I always will, because it always kind of centered around them, rather than a my family/your family thing. But that's okay, too. I only hope that someday one of the kids lives in a house with a really big dining room, because I'm pretty sure that they all want to keep doing this together forever, too.

And today I did nothing at all, except make a quick trip to the CVS this morning. I am still feeling pretty crappy, between the stomach and the various feet and back troubles. I have all kinds of doctors' appointments coming up in the next couple of weeks, so I suppose I'll be able to get these things addressed at some point.

And ... it seems like Christmas shopping can't be put off much longer than this. I'm still hoping to do lots of it online, but they're saying something about Monday being the best day for that, so I guess I'll get my shopping cart filled up over the weekend and make the buy on Monday, for whatever reason. That and a short trip to the Gap should do most of it, I hope.

There's nothing on TV today except a Spongebob marathon, which would not be my first choice, but since there's nothing else, K can have it on. I do enjoy watching her watch it, because it makes her laugh, and I love her laugh. It hasn't changed in going on 24 years, and it always makes me laugh too. However, I now have sponge for brains.

WATCHING SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS :: ENTRY #1631

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

So, my pies are out of the oven and the stuffing for the mushrooms is all made and in the fridge. The Hubs will make the regular stuffing tonight, but that's as far as it goes until tomorrow. I can't start anything else until the turkey is in the oven and I have room to put more stuff in the refrigerator.

We are 13 this year: the Hubs and I and our two, and 9 on my sister's side: her husband, four of their six combined children, one child's spouse, one child's fiancee, and said fiancee's divorced father. Eldest Nephew is in from California. It feels like all of our chicks are home to roost.

I read and enjoyed Lena's tale today of her first Thanksgiving as a married person, so I searched my archives over at d-land and found that I had written mine there in 2003. But I'm presenting it to you here, edited a bit. It was a two-day entry then; the first day about our first married Thanksgiving and the second day about all our goofy traditions. So here you go.

Back in the pleistocene age, circa 1977, the Hubs and I were just married, living in an apartment, and I claimed Thanksgiving for my own.

My in-laws would have Christmas. My parents would have Passover, although they rarely, and then never, claimed it. Thanksgiving was the all-American holiday, the one I could reasonably claim to sponsor in my mixed-marriage household, when such terms still applied to such trivial things as Jewish-Catholic. I wanted to have a Norman Rockwell beautiful holiday. In those days, I still cooked, I read all the home magazines, I had all the accoutrements of the newly married: pots, pans, basting bulbs, nice dishes, stemware. I was psyched, man.

There would be eleven of us: the Hubs and myself, my parents, his parents, his sister and fiance, my sister, her first husband and their adorable three year old. My sister was Enormo the Whale, pregnant with unsuspected twins who were born two and half weeks later. She looked like she was about five years pregnant and could barely move.

My mother was just about to head into a bipolar downer and so was unavailable for help with recipes, serving tips, and all that. In fact, we had had Thanksgiving out in a restaurant with close family friends for about ten years by then. I don't really remember a Thanksgiving held in our own house in my childhood.

So I got cooking tips from all the old pros at work, and I got ready. I got cheesecloth to cover the turkey with, which I still do. I was, as they say, loaded for bear.

I discovered that morning, I think, that the oven in our apartment had two settings: off, and, like the oven in Mickey's house in DisneyWorld, VOLCANO HEAT! So once the oven was on, baby, did it get hot in there. By the time our guests arrived, we had every window open and we were wearing shorts and tank tops. And it was your typical New Jersey Thanksgiving weather. If we stepped out onto the front porch, the sweat froze on our skin.

Anyway, so there we were, ten sweltering adults packed into an apartment that, as it turns out, should really have held about six, and one hyperactive and charming child, who carromed around the room from adult to adult like a pinball on speed. The turkey, as you might guess, was a little dry. Otherwise, there was only one other disaster to speak of: the pecan pie that my sister-in-law made never quite gelled. It was her first try at a pecan pie, and she was embarased. I might point out that she is now one kick-ass pie maker, and actually had a business making and selling pecan pies a few years ago. Funny.

So that was it. Except that a couple of weeks later, my sister had her unexpected twins and then went into a coma and then woke up a week later with amnesia. Just like in a soap opera. I've told this tale elsewhere.

It was a few years before all her memory came back, although most of it did, gradually. It came back from the beginning: first she remembered her childhood, and so on.

Here's how we knew when it all came back. From time to time, my father would ask her if she remembered the Thanksgiving before the twins were born, since it was the last notable thing that had happened, only weeks before. She didn't. He would ask every few months, I guess, and then he forgot to keep asking. But once, it might even have been five years later, I was watching something on TV with the Sibs and there was something on about pecan pie.

Not thinking at all, except about pecan pie and how good it is, I asked somewhat absently "Didja ever have pecan pie?"

And she answered, just as absently, "Oh, only once, but it never gelled, remember? And it was so hot that day."

We looked at each other and looked and that's when we knew that it had all come back.

And that, and the fact that Thanksgiving is the Immigrants' Holiday, and I am the offspring of immigrants, as are we all as Americans, is the reason that I love Thanksgiving so much.

What do we do for Thanksgiving now?

After the first one, we have the same Thanksgiving every year. Starting with that second year, my in-laws went off to my newly married sister-in-law, and have remained there. So it was something we hosted for my side of the family. Gradually, my mother and sister began to make and bring some of the food. Then my mother slacked off. Then when my mother first became ill, and was diagnosed in September, the doctor said she might not be with us for Thanksgiving, which was a really big deal to us. When she was, we shifted, and had it in her apartment, since it was easier for her. And then she stuck around for seven more. By then, we would have it at my sister's house: more room to move around, easier for my folks. In 2002, we were without Shirl, but had Thanksgiving at the apartment because it was easier for Jack. The Sibs and I still brought every bit of food. 2003 was our first year without Shirl and Jack, not to mention that Eldest Nephew was still in California and R was in Wales.

But we've done it virtually the same way for so long, that when the Nephew first moved out there nearly 10 years earlier and he asked me to send him some recipes, I sent along a letter that included all of our customs as well. I've since shared it with others in the family; I even sent a copy to R in Wales, although so much of it no longer applies. Here's the abbreviated, pseudonymed, version:

Dear JJ,

As you know, we have many customs and traditions that we follow each year at Thanksgiving. I know that you're most interested in the food, so I'll start with that.

• turkey - get a butterball, and follow the directions.
• stuffing - your uncle makes his trademark vegetarian/Italian stuffing, and the recipe will go to the grave with him. Actually, he makes it up each year, so you're as likely as he is to come up with a good one.
• 1 or 2 cans of jellied cranberry sauce: In keeping with tradition, every other year or so you will forget to put this out on the table.
• Heinz turkey gravy in a jar: If you get one jar, everyone will want gravy and you won't have enough. If you have two jars, no one will want gravy this year, and it will remain in your refrigerator until it has taken on a life of its own.
• pumpkin pie: I make a vegan pie so that your uncle can eat it. If I were you, I'd go to the supermarket and buy a frozen Mrs. Smith's pie.
• String Bean Casserole with little crunchy onions
• Grandma's Sweet Potato Casserole with the little marshmallows on top: I'm making it this year, and the recipe is anyone's guess.

That's what we eat. Other things you should remember for a traditional Thanksgiving are:

• Thanksgiving actually begins a week earlier when Grandpa suggests that we use paper plates, have turkey parts only, and gives us a hundred bucks to pay for all the food that he says no one ever eats.
• Grandpa always sits at the little table with the kids so they won't feel stigmatized.
• Your brother always sits facing the t.v.
• K always sits next to you.
• No one ever wants to sit across from Grandma.
• Grandpa always arrives first. He brings a jar of macadamia nuts.
• You always arrive last. You probably never even knew that Grandpa always brings a jar of macadamia nuts.
• You always arrives last. So, whenever you get there, you can start eating.
• There is never enough room at the table, which is always in danger of imminent collapse.
• The ultimate Thanksgiving experience is when the Cowboys are playing the Redskins.
• At some point in the meal, Grandpa gives all the kids money. He used to give everybody a roll of quarters, but now he gives a $20.
• Someone -- anyone -- must bring up the subject of body piercing. No one knows how this recently became one of our traditions, but it seems to be important, although no one knows why.

And as for this last item, it seems somehow fitting that Jack's last year with us, the Eldest Nephew outed his sister and cousins for their various naval and tongue piercings, and tattoos. Just a nice little bit of closure.

WATCHING THE GOLDEN GIRLS :: ENTRY #1630

So.

So, I didn't sleep well last night, and I slept later than I wanted to, and didn't get to the supermarket until 9.00. It wasn't horribly crowded, as I thought it would be, but I had hoped that it would be empty at 8.00, which it probably was.

Why did I not sleep well last night? Not for the usual reasons. I fell asleep on the couch at 9.30. At 9.40, the phone rang. It was the Hubs, who had gone out for a drink after work, which I knew. He was calling to tell me that he was leaving soon, the friend he was with was having one more drink, although he himself was done. Okay, whatever. He's a big boy and can hold his drink, but I have very strong feelings about drinking and driving, which he knows. Okay. I fell back to sleep.

And woke up in a moment. Not home yet. Back to sleep. Lather, rinse, repeat. He got home at 11.15, by which time, let me tell, I was wide awake, and way past that falling-asleep-moment that is so elusive to me. I glared. He told me proudly (and not drunkenly) that he only had four cigarettes all day yesterday. Yes, how fucking nice for you. He went to bed. I tried to fall asleep on the couch again. With very little luck. Doze, wake, etc. Finally, around one, I decided I was not getting to sleep on the couch tonight and it was time to go to bed.

Where he was sleeping deeply, curled up on top of the blankets in the dead center of the bed. Upside down, with his head at the foot of the bed. Really, why do I bother?

I couldn't wake him (although I tried) and managed to shove him over, but now I'm trying to fall asleep with the thought that any minute he is going to roll over and kick me in the head. Lucy and Ricky's twin beds are starting to look better and better to me.

I put on some Brahms (the playlist starts with Brahm's lullaby) in my ear, ran the playlist twice, and finally fell asleep. Hence the late awakening this morning. And what is more or less a foul mood.

Although I actually don't feel well today, the same stomach whatever that brought me home from school early on Thursday. Nauseous when I stand up, not wanting to eat much. After the supermarket and the cleaners, I pretty much crashed all day, but I'd already gotten done most of whatever else I needed to do today, so that was okay. I couldn't even read, really. I put on some educational channel and let it play while I dozed.

So there you have the highlights of my fascinating day. Tomorrow, perhaps the obligatory target run, and maybe a visit from my eldest nephew, who arrived from California in the wee hours this morning. I heart him.

WATCHING SCRUBS :: ENTRY #1627

My Visit to Foot World

I'm home from the podiatrist -- it's about 11.30 as I begin this -- and I'm ... what can I say? stable. (Well, sort of.) He wrapped my feet again, which is the way to go until new orthotics can be made. He says the orthotics will not only let me walk without pain, they will treat the condition, so it improves. But I had orthotics made last winter (which are no good), so I'm going to wait until January to get new ones to see if insurance will cover them. I also asked about the cyst that is growing on my right foot, just below where a bunion would be, and told him I want it removed. I do wear Crocs all the time, but I don't know if any other shoe is even possible now. (Although I have sneakers on now to try it out.) Anyway, yada yada, the podiatrist has a partner who is the surgeon and who is joining the group as soon as his details are worked out, so, fingers crossed that I can have it removed during February break. At first, he thought I was asking about removing a bunion (which I don't have) and said something about being out of work for five or six weeks (!!!!!), but then he remembered it's a cyst, so it's out of work for five days. So I'd just as soon do it during a break, either February or April, so I don't have to take so many sick days.

1.00

Just ran around and did a variety of errands, and made various appointments, too. K doesn't have class today, so she just went to campus briefly for a few things and then came home. She thinks she's coming down with something, which time will tell. She did just go out and run around with me, but mostly she stayed in the car. (They were a lot of drive-by errands, like dropping off mail and getting gas.)

I'm off in a half hour or so to get a haircut. I don't feel so hot myself, but I don't know what it is. If it's what I'm starting to think it might be, let's just say, I am too old for that kind of thing. (And no, not pregnant, god forbid, which would require a religious miracle, not to mention all kinds of microsurgery.) I think there's some phenomenon, like the one where you don't quite remember what labor feels like (or you'd never have a second child) that says once menopause has started, you kind of don't remember what cramps feel like. Once again, time will tell. It just better tell the story I want to hear.

4.30

Home, and home again. Got my haircut and had it styled curly, which on me just looks kind of uncombed, but why not, for a change. Once I got home, K and I trekked over to R's to feed the kitty, since R is coming home late from the city tonight.

My chore for tonight is to give the fridge a really good cleaning out, since we'll need all kinds of space in it for the coming week's cooking, and to make up my shopping list for the supermarket tomorrow morning. One of my favorite things is shopping for Thanksgiving. Everything I'm buying is exactly what everyone else is buying, and it's all stacked at the ends of the aisles where it's easy to find.

So, here's one of the things I wanted to mini-rant about that I put off until today. Have you heard how the governor of New York wanted to start a program in which illegal immigrants got drivers' licenses? This was all kinds of ripped into in the press, and by politicians on every side, and even the governor himself finally gave it up. Now, I ask you: why was this a bad idea? As for me, I would like to know that every driver on the road has been tested and is licensed, in this country. So that's one. Here's another. When there are illegal immigrants in a community -- and like it or not, there are -- they are still entitled to public services like education, emergency medical care, use of the roads, water and other utilities, and so on. But because they can't be counted properly, services are often inadequate to meet the needs of the number of people who are actually in the community. Giving them driver's licenses would help count them. But here's the really big question: if we give them driver's licenses, we will know who and where they are. What on earth is wrong with that?

So. I'm not saying this resolves the illegal immigrant problem in any way, although something needs to. I just think the driver's licenses was a great idea on many levels. It didn't make them legal. It just made them visible. I think it would be a smart idea if we knew who they are. I'll bet police departments everywhere wish they had licenses and showed up in a database. I don't know why every state isn't doing it.

I'll save my other thought for tomorrow. Time to attack the refrigerator.

WATCHING VH1 :: ENTRY #1626

Can You Go Home Again?

[copied from dland]

**In 17 days I will be 50 years old**

Younger Daughter says that since she left for college this past September, all our family traditions have changed. This is as much as she can currently understand of that same thing we all go through: we grow up, we are no longer children, our parents can no longer fix everything, and the home of our childhood becomes a memory. Even if we still live there, it feels different.

Our house is different; a few days after she went away, we had vinyl siding put up, new windows put in, the vestibule-front porch demolished and rebuilt without the vestibule, and took out the dead shrubs. So the house does look different. But that's not what she said. She said that our family traditions are gone.

True, we didn't have our annual "Birthday Sunday" in September, when my in-laws celebrate the birthdays of their two children and one son-in-law. (My birthday, as we all know, is in January.) With three of the four grandchildren away at college this year, there was no day in September available. We agreed that starting next year, Birthday Sunday would become Anniversary Sunday, celebrated in July. One tradition down.

We've never missed a Christmas with the in-laws, until today. Now that they're an hour and a half drive away, snow matters, and boy did it snow today. We're nearing a foot, and my sister-in-law, almost an hour north of us, has got to have lots more. So, for my kids, even though they're grown up, it's the first Christmas without Nannie and Gramps. Second tradition down.

What else could she have meant? We had Thanksgiving at my father's, just like we did last year. We ate all the same food, and welcomed the addition of my nephew's wonderful girlfriend to the dinner table. Young Daughter didn't even mention Thanksgiving; she just said "all our family traditions." So she must have meant Thanksgiving, too.

We didn't lose our Thanksgiving tradition, it just changed. No Shirl this year. So it was her first Thanksgiving without Grandma.

I know she was cranky today because she feels like her childhood is slipping away. It is. They do that. They're supposed to.

She'll get over it. I just wish she didn't have to go back to school for the spring semester three days before my birthday.


ENTRY #33

And Then I Went to the Hospital

[copied from dland]

It's not that I ate all that much on Thanksgiving. I never really do. I had about a mouthful of turkey -- never my favorite -- and Husband's vegan stuffing, which is always such a big hit with everyone, has always tasted just a little weird to me. Sister made the wonderful family cole slaw, Shirl's recipe, and I do like that. So I ate the cole slaw, and damn, it was good. Even so, I don't eat that much of anything, even that which I love.

Did not feel so good Friday morning, and took an hour or more to get up. I had planned to hit Target first thing in the a.m., to return a couple of things and pick up a few more Christmas gifts, but I stayed in bed for a while instead. Within the hour, the gut began to hurt.

I spent most of the day popping Advil while doing a minor errand or two

And getting a haircut I really didn't need. By six p.m. I was in bed trying to find a comfortable position where I wouldn't be in agony. I was sure I knew just what it was: diverticulitis rearing its ugly head -- um, colon -- again. It was the raisins in the rice pudding. It was the sesame seeds ion the Whopper I had on Tuesday. No doubt, diverticulitis. Or maybe -osis. Diverticulosis goes away in a day or two, but -itis needs antibiotics. Either way, gut pain, gut pain, gut pain.

Nasty night, Friday. All I wanted to do was (excuse me) get rid of whatever was going on in there, which seemed to have found a home in my pocket-filled system. More Advil, and more, and an ice pack on my belly.

Woke up about 8:15 am, saw the note from Husband that he had gone out for a few things. (Because Home Depot is always open.) My doctor was off (it was Saturday, after all) and the gut doctor I had seen a few years ago for a previous bout of the same was already at the hospital working, so he said to come on in, get the CAT scan, and he would see me at two. Girls both still sleeping, I left a note and headed off to Emergency. My main fear at this point was that they would put me in the same cubicle where Shirl died.

I was settled into a cubicle (not that one) by 10, and my day began. Curiously, about this time, my pain disappeared. It's amazing what getting rid of all that stuff can do for you.

The Emergency Room is never a good place to be. Either you are really sick, which certainly sucks, or you're not sick enough to warrant much attention. Hmm. I was definitely in the second category.

They gave me the delightful contrast drink to drink and there I was. I read four magazines. By about noon, I began to wonder where my wonderful family was. The girls, true, might still be asleep. Husband not home yet? A sale on leaf suckers, was there? Did he see the note? Did he not read the word HOSPITAL? Where the fuck was he?

I thought about calling home to tell them I was still alive, but screw it. Someone could be making the ten minute ride to the hospital to see if I was living or dead, right?

Started crying about 1:00. Not big time weeping, mostly sniffling and tears rolling down the old cheeks. And I'm thinking:

"They all think I'm fucking supermom and I can handle it. To them I'm just a competent doer of things that need doing. Needs, I don't have needs. I don't mind being alone in the fucking hospital. I'm just a zero to them, nothing. I'm invisible."

You get the picture.

I finally went for the damn CAT scan at 1:30 and was back in my cubicle by 2:15. Oh wait, someone else was in my cubicle now. They parked my bed in the hall, where I sat crying until about three. At which time I started asking them to take out my IV because I was going home.

Not that I wanted to go home. I didn't want to see them at all. I thought, if only I had remembered to bring a credit card, I could go to a hotel. They'll be sorry. Everybody hatesmenobodylikesmeI'mgoingtogoeatworms.

They kept putting me off, and my doctor finally showed up at 3:45. Seems like the guy who reads the CAT scans had already gone home. But wait, the pain's gone. Why am I here again?

I begged them to let me go, and told them that my family sucked. The doctor said that I was okay (duh) and let me go.

I'd been thinking all along, don't lose the anger, you never get angry but you're right this time, don't lose it. I got in the car and lit a cigarette and got about three blocks away from the hospital and suddenly realized that I wasn't angry anymore. I was okay.

Got home about 4:30. Husband looked worried and relieved. "Why didn't you call?" he asked. "Why didn't you come?" I asked. So know we know: both of us are jerks. It was very nice that he insisted that he was the bigger jerk, since I was the one in the hospital. It didn't matter anymore. I was okay.

Then I found out that Sister found out where I was all day, and as I was about to call her and tell her I was home she called me and yelled at me and made me swear never never never to do anything stupid like that again, going to the hospital by myself and not calling anyone. I said it wasn't a big deal. She said, if she had gone to the hospital, would I have come right way? And we knew that I would, so she said she would too. And she was right.

And then talked to Jack, and he yelled at me too. He said he would have been there if he knew. Like I would have let him, all 83 years of hardly walking him. But he would have been there.

How do you like that. They love me.


ENTRY #22

They Suck Your Life Right Up

[copied from dland]

It's been a while, and here's why.

They came home from college, both of them. It was wonderful having them here, and I love them so much. Yet ...

They are so incredibly disruptive to the quiet little life we so naturally settled into about five minutes after they both left in August. For all of you out there getting edgy about sending off your youngest to college and falling into that empty nest thing, I am here to tell you that sending both -- or all, whatever -- of your kids away is the most relaxed you will have felt since you got pregnant. When they are gone:

there are no dishes in the sink.

there are clean towels in the bathroom.

there is hardly any garbage to take out.

you can watch whatever you want to on tv.

the phone almost never rings.

no one is coming and going at odd hours.

This one amuses me. Okay, we're hardly late-night-type folks, but when someone is sitting around in her pajamas at nine o'clock on a Saturday night and then leaves for a minute and comes back fully dressed, telling me she's going to a movie and someone's picking her up at 11, I've got to wonder. Their evenings BEGIN at 11:00? By 11, I've usually already slept for an hour or two and am just coming alive for my first bout of insomnia/eating-everything-in-the-kitchen for the night.

But no complaints, really. They came, they went. Aside from their bizarre random moments of sibling rivalry, they got along great, as they always do, and were most pleasant to be with. I made a point last night of telling Older Daughter (while waiting for her 11:00 pickup) that I am proud to be her mother, and that I am proud of the person she has become. Younger Daughter has grown so much while away at school, and I am proud of her too.

And I am proud of me. Thanksgiving is to our family what Christmas is to others: our ultimate coming together, the holiday that means the most to us. Nephews flew in from California, drove down from Boston. It was a wonderful Thanksgiving, all of us there. Except, of course, Shirl. Our first Thanksgiving without Grandma.

We made it.


ENTRY #21