Find a Reason for Thanksgiving

Hmmm...What's the weather doing now? I'm glad you asked. It snowed yesterday and the white stuff decided to stick around, albeit in brief patches on the leafy and frozen ground. And it's certainly cold out there as you must have figured. I wonder what could possibly be coming next?

All kidding aside, or perhaps not...you might be wondering what's been happening with me and why I haven't been writing anything at all? Well I guess I could answer by saying that it's not that I haven't wanted to write, but that I can't seem to decide what angle to come from when I write.

Lately I've been thinking that maybe my blog is just a bit too lighthearted and silly and that I should perhaps instead be dedicating my writing to something more intellectual and serious. The Election Fever would have been a prime topic prior to Nov. 4 as would the Economic Fiasco. But I don't know the reason why I didn't write something about it as it was all everyone could talk about then and is talking about now - I just couldn't think of anything pertinent to say. And really, does one opinion matter, especially mine?

The reason I say this is that it just seems as if the only thing that makes the world go around is money and that's all world leaders and decision makers care about anyway. Money-Power-Greed-Corruption. What is best for the people doesn't seem to matter, nor any plan that is logical, fair and sensible. Perhaps that's what I'm really grieved about.

So today, this morning, trying to put all my feelings and thoughts aside, I had originally decided to simply put up a post to say, "Happy Thanksgiving" to my Readers, though by now you may be few and far between. The holiday greeting now comes in strange contrast to what this post has become.

How can we be "happy" in times like these? It's a valid concern. I guess I don't know what to say except for we should just try to find some happiness somehow, and for one day try to push what's unpleasant aside and know that there is always at least one positive thing in life that we can be thankful for. It's just a matter of looking a little closer.

The Holidays Are Over

Where does the time go between Thanksgiving and the New Year? They say time flies when you're having fun, and I ask, Are we having fun yet? It was all a blur for me and now it's over. But I guess I'm not too sad. While preparing the house for Christmas has its nostalgia, it certainly is tiring. And I'm not even including the presents and the food and the partying!

We have loads of decorations and, with kids in the house, we can't get away with not putting them all up. So, every nook and cranny had a decoration - swags of greenery over the doorways, strings of lights, candles, various nativity scenes, lots of Christmas tree decorations, door hangers, and window decals - you name it, we've got it. Well, one thing we didn't put out was the giant inflatable snow bear...I cleverly forgot to unpack it this year! (tee-hee) All in all, we decorated for a day straight and then had to maneuver around it for several weeks.

The kids helped me decorate the Christmas tree, of course. I handed over the ornaments and they hung them. Each and every one. And since they are restricted by height, the decorations were clumped around the middle and bottom of the tree. Mom had to do some rearranging. And I'm forgetting to mention that I absolutely can't dispose of any previously crafted item - children have memories like elephants. "Mom, where's that paper advent ring I made in preschool? How come we can't put that out too?" I have an entire box dedicated to these treasures of Christmases Past. It takes some fast thinking to fire off reasons why we can't put them on display.

Like every year the present wrapping takes place two days before Christmas. By the time I got the kids to go to bed and go to sleep, it was eleven o'clock, and then mom and dad had to spend an hour up to our elbows in wrapping paper. To top it off is the cat. Scotty, my Scottish-Persian Sailor Cat, is fascinated by anything and everything rustley and crinkly, so his favorite part of Christmas is the bows and plastic shrink wrap. As I put the finishing touches on each present - name tag and bow - he was waiting patiently in the wings. I'd place a present under the tree and, when I'd turn my back, he'd pounce.

After he ripped off the fourth or fifth bow, clamped in his mouth like a prize mouse, he bounded into the dining room to devour it. I snatched the bow away and hubby replaced it with a smidge of scotch tape stuck to Scotty's ear. If you have a cat you know that they hate to have their ears messed with. Boy was Scotty mad! He sat in the corner and pouted for a while, ear flicking furiously because of the tape. He finally pawed it free and, thankfully, left us alone and we finished the wrapping.

The next two days went by too quickly, but we managed to pull it together by the afternoon of Christmas Eve day; went to church and then got everything ready for our guests. We had a great time, lots of friends and family came to eat, drink, and be merry (hey, there's only one of me, but you've got to want to try!) and pass the time together. The nice part is that even though many of our friends don't have family living in Michigan, we made them feel like they were a part of our family.

Christmas morning was nice, even though we slept until ten (perhaps a world record in a house with kids). The children seemed pleased with their presents and spent the rest of the day playing and enjoying and us relaxing and recovering.

The days between Christmas and New Year were full - I would have to say that this year was very nice and we truly enjoyed ourselves with all the get-togethers and gatherings. Before we knew it, New Year was upon us, and then it was time to take down the decorations and return them to their respective bags and boxes to guard in the attic until next December.

One thing is certain, it seems if I don't blog about things as they happen, when I do have time to muse on them I can't seem to remember their pertinence, if they had any to begin with. Not that Christmas doesn't have pertinence, but that there are many things that happen in our lives that do and if we don't make note of them, the fine details slip away. But I won't cry over what is done and gone, only look forward to more Christmases to come. And it is on that note that I am glad that January has begun.

Look Out, Tom Turkey!

Thanksgiving morning. So much for sleeping in until the alarm went off. My bladder woke me up at 5:11 a.m. In all the confusion I must have forgotten to go to the bathroom before I tucked the whole family into bed the night before. Up and out of bed I went, the only one who noticed was the cat and he just winked a lazy eye and went back to sleep.

The power had been out all night. I lay in bed thinking of everything I had to do, primarily stuff the turkey, which didn't bother me as I've cooked turkey before, but as I mentally prepared for the task I realized in terror that there was no way I could cook the turkey without the necessary electricity to regulate the oven temperature.

What did I do? Well, I said a prayer.

"Dear Lord" I prayed, "I have to cook that turkey or there'll be no Thanksgiving dinner today, and I've got all those people coming over. What am I going to do?" I asked.

I'm not too kooky (despite popular belief), so I didn't expect to hear a voice come out of the ceiling telling me what to do. I didn't hear anything. I just lay there worrying and dozed off.

As if in answer to my prayer, twenty minutes later I heard the familiar beeps and chirps of appliances returning to life and all over the house the lights, that were on the night before, were illuminated again. I had to get out of bed once more, but did so happily to turn the hallway and bathroom lights off so's not to wake the family, oh, and the cat, who gets really grumpy if he doesn't get his beauty sleep.

As I said my thanks, I felt completely relieved because now the heat was also working, I prudently decided that since it was still before six that I should lay down and catch a few more winks. I overdid it, and somehow ended up turning off the cell phone alarm and sleeping until seven. And then I had to get up!

I didn't bother dressing, just tied on my apron over the pajamas. I had left Tom in the sink overnight to thaw and it seemed to have worked well. I clicked on the oven and pulled the onion and celery out of the fridge to start chopping them and add to the stock pot where a stick of butter lay melting. I always make my own stuffing, but whereas I used to chop stale bread into cubes by hand I have wised up and now buy unseasoned croutons from the bread store, saving me a lot of extra time and elbow grease.

In no time I had the stuffing ingredients sauteing and I prepared the turkey. First of all, let's just say that dead poultry is disgusting. I know that with all the advances we've made in food production that I shouldn't complain. Gone are the days of going to the market, selecting your bird, and bringing home a really fresh one, but there's still something gross about it anyway. And because Tom weighed 23 pounds I soon realized that handling him was going to be difficult. I could barely handle him at all. Have any of you seen the commercial where the woman has a 50 pound turkey in the sink and can't pick him up? Well that was me, and that's where my husband came in. He washed the turkey and put him in the roasting pan and we stuffed it together, chucking Tom into the oven at 8 a.m.

The rest of the morning went smoothly and as the hours ticked away... I dressed myself and the kids. Basted the turkey. Set the table and decorated it. Basted the turkey. Gathered the chairs. Checked the turkey, "Hallo, Tom!" Took out the serving dishes. Basted the turkey. Popped the other dishes into the oven. Basted the turkey. Greeted the first guests. Basted the turkey. Had a few cups of holiday cheer with the guests. We all checked the turkey. The rest of the guests arrived. I buttered the turkey. Everyone was present and crammed into the kitchen. Buttered the turkey some more. Helped prepare the dishes the guests brought. Poked the turkey with a meat thermometer as the pop-out timer was still popped in. Had some more holiday cheer. We consulted over the turkey, "Is it done yet?" Made merry and were feeling dizzy. Decided, "What the heck! hic The turkey's got to be done!" Finally.

By 3:30, we took Tom to the table. I must have done something right as everyone said just how delicious he was. The meat was cooked to perfection - not too tough nor dry. The guests were in good cheer and all the food was great. We took our time eating and, halfway through, shared what we were thankful for. The adults sat at table for a long while, relaxing and conversing. The finale, of course, was the dessert and the pies.

Despite all the preparation involved in hosting a Thanksgiving dinner, at least two days worth, the best thing about this holiday is being able to share, abundantly, the many things we have with others. Thanksgiving isn't just about the turkey, but about appreciation and gratitude, and about passing a pleasant afternoon in the company of family and friends. I know this sounds cliche, like the subject of a greeting card, but if you can look past any of the negatives, you'll find that the sentiment rings true.

When the Lights Go Out

The day before Thanksgiving is not a day for slackers. And since I can potentially fall into this category, I made sure I was up early, considering the kiddies didn't have school, quietly making breakfast and coffee so's not to wake the little heathens, er, darlings. I saw hubby off to work and finished some housecleaning - about two hour's worth during which the children finally woke up and I made their breakfast, helped them dress, and also served as referee when, from time to time, they would have minor outbursts and otherwise start punching each other.

Fortunately for me I managed to get most everything that I had to do done and just in time. I showered and dressed and started making lunch - a simple tuna casserole - as an old friend of mine was coming over to visit. We did have a nice and relaxing afternoon, considering, but soon enough it was time for her to go and for me to perform the Dreaded Six-Letter Family Ritual like I always do, wash a mountain of dishes, and then roll up my sleeves, slap on an apron, and really get to work.

With my son's and daughter's help, I made seven pumpkin pies from scratch, popped the cranberries for the sauce, sliced, sugared, and buttered the yams, slopped the green bean casserole together, and submerged Tom, the 23 pound turkey, in a cold water bath. I was hosting dinner the next day and wanted to be prepared.

Let's just say everything went as smoothly as it could with children running to and fro, tussling over who gets to help Mom with the pumpkin pies as son nearly sneezes into the bowl of raw filling, daughter insists she just washed her hands but has black lines under her fingernails, and the cat jumps on the kitchen table and onto the floured surface that's waiting for the pie crust. Oh yes, dear reader, that's just a sampling of what it's like around my house.

As I juggled all this, the hours were creeping away. Soon it was eight o'clock, then nine. Somehow, the children had listened to me enough to put on their pajamas, but kept running up and down the stairs. They were having a high time of it. At ten to ten, under threat of bodily harm and imprisonment, I ordered them upstairs (for the hundredth time at least) to start brushing their teeth and that's when it happened.

The lights flickered out for a few seconds but popped back on again. It was a little odd. We had been under a high wind advisory, but there was no real bad weather. Just a cold rain. I didn't think much of it. I had taken the last two pies out of the oven, had been washing dishes and utensils, and was nearly finished with everything (not counting the next morning). Not bad considering it was ten thirty. Of course, without my constant supervision, the kids still hadn't brushed their teeth! (Now you know why I'm half-nuts...)

What happened next?

The lights really went out!

The house plunged into darkness and I could hear terrified calls for help from the upstairs bathroom. Of course, inside I was howling with laughter. Serves the little scamps right! If they would have listened to me in the first place (brush your teeth and go to bed) about two hours ago they wouldn't be in their current predicament. And on the outside I was groping about for the matches because, wonder upon wonders, the flashlight was dead (hmmm...now who could have been playing with the flashlight?) Just as I struck a match, the kiddies came stumbling, huddled together, into the kitchen.

We lit several candles, found a working flashlight, and I rekindled the fire from the coals that remained from when my friend had been over hours before, because when the lights go out, so does the heat. The kids were even more excited, if that was possible, and were having a great time of it, for some unknown reason running about the dark parts of the house and tripping and falling or running into each other. I finished covering and putting away the food and the pies. Soon the kids were hatching plans.

"Can we all sleep in front of the fireplace tonight?" they asked, hopefully.
"Are you crazy?!" I exclaimed. "I'm sleeping in my bed." The last thing I needed was to sleep on the floor the day before I had to cook a turkey and put on a dinner. I'd never be able to stand up straight and walk the next day.
Hubby added, "Are you sure? There's no heat."

I don't like to pull my Laura Ingalls Card out unnecessarily, but I had to. I had earned the moniker "Laura Ingalls" from the time when I shared with a group of friends how I had grown up. It was the first and the last time that I had done this because, personally, I think they were just plain-old jealous that they hadn't lived like the pioneers as I had.

So I pulled the card, told my kids why we didn't have to sleep in front of the fireplace (making my rendition of Little House in the Big Woods brief), started snuffing out the candles, and made my way upstairs.

"Just put an extra blanket on the bed," I said over my shoulder as they scrambled up behind me, "and you'll be fine."
"Mom," daughter pants, "can I sleep with a candle in my room?"
"Oh, yeah, sure," I agreed, "and I'll be the first one to come and visit you in the burn unit tomorrow. NOT!" I said firmly.

Who were these kids and where did they come from? Planet Pyro?

I went and got an extra sweatshirt and a pair of thick socks to put on each of them. My son had his favorite dinosaur tucked under his arm and my daughter had her pillow. They were waiting by the end of the bed, looking at us expectantly.

"Oh, alright!" I exclaimed, "you can sleep with us."

Hubby skooched over to make room in the bed, thankfully it's king-sized. The kids clambered up and I tucked them in, safe and snug. I was the last one to get in; we were stacked up like cord wood (Laura Ingalls here I come) when the cat jumped in too, curling himself into a ball at the foot of the bed, right next to my feet (what's new?).

By this time it was midnight. I set my cell phone alarm (six thirty and the turkey come early) and somehow, balanced precariously on the edge of the bed, with an elbow wedged into my rib cage, unable to move my legs, and with only half of my body covered by the blankets, I managed to fall asleep.