I hate this holiday. It's an excuse for asshole relatives to darken my doorstep and tell me I'm living my life wrong.
My dad went up to West Virginia Tuesday to celebrate Thanksgiving with my new step-mom's family; I didn't go because I had to work. My mom wanted to come down from Charleston to spend several days with me but didn't because I didn't know if I'd have to go back to work the day after Thanksgiving until I left Wednesday morning (turns out I don't go back until Sunday night). So today my only options were to either stay home alone or go eat with my grandparents, uncle, and my uncle's girlfriend's family.
I ended up going to eat with them. It was alright until my grandmother and the mother of my uncle's girlfriend started talking about how terrible they think Obamacare is, that Obama should be impeached, and that they're surprised nothing worse has happened to him if you know what I mean. Kinda soured my mood a bit.
Also, I'm a vegetarian, so all there was to eat for me was peas and cornbread.
So to hear you didn't have anything to eat. My girl is vegetarian, so we had a field roast. Also, why do people bring politics into a happy holiday? Oh well.
Cause they are big, last ones I promis. The spread:
Main Table:
Buffet Table:
Not in this picture, the plate with the the circle of semi round cuts, that field roast. Good vegetarian option.
11 people showed, and fun time by all. I even got all this cleaned up, dishes washed (table cloths not so much) and house back to normal before I had to go to work. Took 3 days worth, but it was worth the friends and family.
So, this was an interesting Thanksgiving this year.
Tuesday night I get a call from my dad, my mom was hit by a car while crossing the street on her way home from work. She was in the hospital with breaks in both feet and her good wrist. Thankfully no head or hip injuries, and I guess that given the circumstances it could have been a lot worse. But she spent the night in the hospital and my dad was kind of a wreck and we were supposed to be hosting Thanksgiving dinner for nine people in less than 48 hours. Dad's wondering if we should postpone the holiday or ask somebody else to host since in my family, mom is The Cook. So I figure the best thing I could do for her was to ensure this holiday was Taken Care Of and she didn't need to worry or feel guilty about anything at all.
So I roll on in there Wednesday morning with a mission: Thanksgiving is on, bitches, and the plans are not changing. Dad's off dealing with the hospital and trying to get her released that day, freaking out over insurance bullshit. I take inventory of the house and found out that mom had done all her shopping already, the bird was already defrosted, and start psyching myself up that we were going to Get This Shit Done. After phoning the guests and confirming that they were bringing mashed and sweet potatoes and a selection of pies and pastries for dessert, I organized the rest of the meal planning. Now I had helped out on various holidays before, but this would be my first time in the big chair.
I banged out a pumpkin pie and some chocolate chip cookies that afternoon. Then my dad rolls up, back from the hospital and on the edge of a panic attack because they won't release her until we pick her up a wheelchair and a walker and it's 4:00 PM rush hour on the day before Thanksgiving and it's Long Island and pouring rain and he's too on edge to drive 20 miles to this medical supply store alone. So we get there and pick up these things and turn around and head right back 20 miles to the hospital and wait and wait and wait because this freaking hospital needs to find a wheelchair to bring her down. But down she comes and we take her home and she's in three casts and can't put any weight on her feet and I need to carry her across the yard and into the house because you never notice how many goddamn stairs are on your property until moments like this.
The next morning I get up and dad and I start turkey prep. It's a 22-lb bird and I start the stuffing and we get him in the oven without incident. People start filing in early afternoon, bearing much-needed side dishes that I in no way could have handled on my own. The bird came out of the oven and was so tender the dark meat was literally falling off the bone. My dad carved him up with ruthless efficiency. Five cups of turkey drippings were crafted into the most incredible fucking gravy that anyone present had ever tasted. One of my uncles was licking the gravy boat dry. Mushrooms were sauteed. Veggies were heated. Rolls toasted golden brown. Cranberry sauce forgotten until literally the last moment.
Mom got to sit in her wheelchair in the kitchen, in remarkably good spirits because - hey, any meal you don't have to lift a finger for tastes all the more delicious for it. She's in good spirits. Everybody had an amazing meal, even the two corgis under the table.
Mission Accomplished.
First they came for the Muslims, and we said NOT TODAY, MOTHERFUCKERS
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MayabirdPecking at the keyboardRegistered Userregular
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Cause they are big, last ones I promis. The spread:
Buffet Table:
Not in this picture, the plate with the the circle of semi round cuts, that field roast. Good vegetarian option.
11 people showed, and fun time by all. I even got all this cleaned up, dishes washed (table cloths not so much) and house back to normal before I had to go to work. Took 3 days worth, but it was worth the friends and family.
Tuesday night I get a call from my dad, my mom was hit by a car while crossing the street on her way home from work. She was in the hospital with breaks in both feet and her good wrist. Thankfully no head or hip injuries, and I guess that given the circumstances it could have been a lot worse. But she spent the night in the hospital and my dad was kind of a wreck and we were supposed to be hosting Thanksgiving dinner for nine people in less than 48 hours. Dad's wondering if we should postpone the holiday or ask somebody else to host since in my family, mom is The Cook. So I figure the best thing I could do for her was to ensure this holiday was Taken Care Of and she didn't need to worry or feel guilty about anything at all.
So I roll on in there Wednesday morning with a mission: Thanksgiving is on, bitches, and the plans are not changing. Dad's off dealing with the hospital and trying to get her released that day, freaking out over insurance bullshit. I take inventory of the house and found out that mom had done all her shopping already, the bird was already defrosted, and start psyching myself up that we were going to Get This Shit Done. After phoning the guests and confirming that they were bringing mashed and sweet potatoes and a selection of pies and pastries for dessert, I organized the rest of the meal planning. Now I had helped out on various holidays before, but this would be my first time in the big chair.
I banged out a pumpkin pie and some chocolate chip cookies that afternoon. Then my dad rolls up, back from the hospital and on the edge of a panic attack because they won't release her until we pick her up a wheelchair and a walker and it's 4:00 PM rush hour on the day before Thanksgiving and it's Long Island and pouring rain and he's too on edge to drive 20 miles to this medical supply store alone. So we get there and pick up these things and turn around and head right back 20 miles to the hospital and wait and wait and wait because this freaking hospital needs to find a wheelchair to bring her down. But down she comes and we take her home and she's in three casts and can't put any weight on her feet and I need to carry her across the yard and into the house because you never notice how many goddamn stairs are on your property until moments like this.
The next morning I get up and dad and I start turkey prep. It's a 22-lb bird and I start the stuffing and we get him in the oven without incident. People start filing in early afternoon, bearing much-needed side dishes that I in no way could have handled on my own. The bird came out of the oven and was so tender the dark meat was literally falling off the bone. My dad carved him up with ruthless efficiency. Five cups of turkey drippings were crafted into the most incredible fucking gravy that anyone present had ever tasted. One of my uncles was licking the gravy boat dry. Mushrooms were sauteed. Veggies were heated. Rolls toasted golden brown. Cranberry sauce forgotten until literally the last moment.
Mom got to sit in her wheelchair in the kitchen, in remarkably good spirits because - hey, any meal you don't have to lift a finger for tastes all the more delicious for it. She's in good spirits. Everybody had an amazing meal, even the two corgis under the table.
Mission Accomplished.
And soup-making. No reason to let that picked-over carcass go to waste when I can use it for turkey vegetable soup.
Turns out that they had a really really good Thanksgiving special.
Then we watched X-Files for a bit.