This is "Live"blogging Macy's Parade Style--where everything is actually pre-recorded. Or post-recorded. Whatever.
I get up. I didn't intend to be up this early, but dogs' bladders apparently have no idea what a "day off" is, and so Hubster was out of bed. I think I'm becoming one of those old women who can't sleep if her spouse is not beside her. Looks like I'm taking "codependant" to a whole new level. Turns out my spouse is in the basement watching a The Wire DVD. I decide to play some Alpha Centauri. Game of the Year, 1999. Yes. I AM officially elderly.
I realise that I have a ginormous turkey, and if it doesn't get in the oven soon, we won't eat until Christ is back to share in the bounty. So up the stairs goes my butt.
Interesting news: Onions make my eyes water just as badly at 7:15 A.M. as they do at 7:15 P.M.. Good to know.
What was the Christmas season like before Mannheim Steamroller? And whatever happened to the New Christy Minstrels?
Big Bird is in the oven, boobie-side down. I've discovered this makes for tolerable white meat and fewer bastings. The biggest news of the day is that for the first time ever I remembered to take out the center rack before the oven was hot. Yay, me! It's only been about 20 years coming, but hey. Milestones are always a good thing.
We need butter, so Hubster and I venture over the river and through the woods to our friendly neighbourhood Food Lion. We both remark on our love for going out in public on a Holiday. It reinforces the feel of specialness since nobody is on the road. It's almost as though we had the world to ourselves.
Until we walked into the Food Lion. Apparently many people decide to do a lot of their shopping on Thanksgiving morning. That store was packed. I decided we needed a green vegetable. And since it's Thanksgiving, that means that our "green vegetable" must be slathered in goo. So we got the stuff to make a green bean casserole. In what would be a very close call, we almost forgot the butter. The one thing we actually came to the store for in the first place.
My sister calls. Northern Indiana is a fog-encased death trap. She's on her way to pick up my grandmother. I wonder if a cell-phone conversation is the safest option, given the fact that visibility is one-tenth of a mile. Luckily, both women made it back to the homestead without incident.
CSI is great to watch on Comcast OnDemand.
Talk to my brother at my parents' house. His allergies are nasty and he has to have surgery. He then hands the phone off to my mother suddenly by saying "I have to go help B. with the haircleaning." ????? That's my family. Hair-cleaning on Thanksgiving, when company is due any minute. I try not to puzzle over this too much.
FINALLY!!!! [Wire Spoiler]
Carver and Bunk actually speak and figure out that Herc never delivered Randy as a witness in Lex's murder. Of course it only took Randy being pummelled to a pulp for everyone to get together. See, this is why I would make a good cop. If I were Carver I would have called Bunk the very day after Herc was supposed to drop Randy off to see if Randy helped the investigation in any way. I'm nosy like that. I would then know that Herc bogarted Randy and would have been able to save Randy from a serious buttkick and Little Kevin from a quicklime-nap in the vacants. Would someone fire Herc already?
[End Wire Spoiler]
The part of the day I like to refer to as "the ballet". This is where Hubster peels white and sweet potatoes, I make a greenbean casserole and then set the table while things cook. Then I candy the sweets, mash the whites, heat the rolls, clean up the kitchen and get the gravy pan ready. I've done this for about 10 years now. It's a science. I love it. I don't think I could do this every day, but I really enjoy cooking. When I do it well and in syncronicity like this I feel a bit like a conductor in front of an orchestra of starch.
Hubster and I then engage in our #1 Thanksgiving Family Tradition: "Raining Turkey From the Sky". This is where we let the dogs go into the backyard, I stand on the deck just off the kitchen and throw pieces of turkey at them from one story up.
Tryptophan+Early Rising=long naps
Hubster cleans up the kitchen from lunch (bless his sainted heart). I talk to my mom on the phone and the mystery of the haircleaning is solved. Apparently my sister was getting dog hair off the sofa. That made more sense than some random beauty-parlor shampooing, which is what I was picturing.
This is the part of the day I will always think of as Bloody Thursday. Casey, the dog of 1000 foot problems, has an infected toenail. I did not know it was infected until I tried to trim it. He yelped in excruciating pain and limped away. Getting blood everywhere. And the blood would NOT stop. I think I've blocked most of this big fun time, but there was a lot of me cleaning the kitchen floor, Hubster steaming the carpet and Casey bleeding and bleeding and bleeding and bleeding. I swear I am the worst mother alive. Just thinking about it makes me want to stab my own foot in penance.
The evening got a lot better eventually. Grey's Anatomy, on the other hand, was kind of a bring-down.
All in all it was a very memorable Thanksgiving.
I want to say a special thank you to the various people who invited us to share the holiday with them today. The kindness in those offers really overwhelms me and makes me realise that good friends are a huge treasure. About 10 years ago we dedicated Thanksgiving to be our "quiet holiday", which works out pretty well. As much as I get homesick for a large group of family and friends during the Holiday season, having a day with just our small, nontraditional family is a huge blessing. It allows us the freedom to enjoy each other's company without too much stress. As long as we don't cut our dog's toenails.