Pre Thanksgiving Fiasco

Time to get on the game face. Thanksgiving is just hours away.  We are in panic mode trying to do the last minute prep work before we have to wake up, watch parades, and cook up dinner. 

Instead of writing, I should be baking a pumpkin cheesecake. 

We gathered up the kids, and headed out to do a bit of shopping, despite it being the most desperate time to go to the supermarket, because everyone is out frantically looking for the things they forgot for the big meal. After we got our groceries, Dessy hinted that she was craving some Chinese food and that she had heard of a new place in town. Now, I need to explain  that we live in a historically agricultural area, the ethnic breakdown is something like 50 percent Caucasian, 45 percent Hispanic, 4.9 percent Somalian or Philippine folks. And about 10 families of Chinese descent. My point is, that you cannot get decent Chinese food here, no matter how you try. Fact is, at many of the Asian restaurants here, the staff is Hispanic. Go figure. 

We found the restaurant, which turned out to be a take out place with a couple of tables. We made our order and waited for it to arrive. 

Josh, our 3 year old was not interested in the fried rice we got him and asked for egg. At this point it may be important to point out that Josh just got over having a bout of the stomach flu. 

I looked at the menu and decided to get him an order of egg foo young. It came out and Josh looked excited. He took one bite and said it was good. I began to eat while the food was still hot then I heard a horrible noise. I was hoping it was just the sound of water spilling on to the floor but no, it was my kid blowing chunks all over the table. Not just once, not twice, but three iterations of the technicolor fountain comprised of fried rice, fried egg and what appeared to be wanton soup. It was just glorious. The proprietor, who had been chattering away in Cantonese suddenly switched to broken English and I think he was describing what water front property in Hong Kong looked like on a bright summers day, because it sounded like "Oh the sunny beaches over there!" I was horrified and asked for a role of paper towels while begging for forgiveness. We got it all cleaned up and headed out to the car. 

As I drove home in sullen silence, I remembered how once when I was about 10 years old, I was out at a smorgasboard restaurant with my family and I too managed to decorate the sink in the bathroom with an awful load of chunky soup. I remember my fathers reaction and how for years after that story came up at family gatherings. The rest of us laughed but oddly, my father remained a bit quiet about the memory. I felt compelled to call my parents right away, and I let them know what happened and how I no longer thought the story was funny. 

Oddly enough, my father found THAT to be funny.

It is time I get to baking, so I will leave you with a wish for a Happy Thanksgiving, and a poem I wrote for the holiday some years ago.

      Ode To Thanksgiving

      'Twas the morning of Thanksgiving,

      And all through my house.

      You can hear lots of screaming from me and my spouse.

      From inside the kitchen with groceries to spare.

      We argued and fought over how to prepare.

      The guests will be coming,

      Expecting our best.

      The food won't be ready

      And our house is a mess.

      When on top of the stove, the yams made a splatter,

      And Dessy came running, to see what was the matter.

      The potatoes were flying, as I started to mash,

      then fell on the floor and into the trash.

      The bread won't be made, cause I messed up the dough

      and the stuffing is runny, why I don't know.

      When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

      But a miniature wife, and I shuddered in fear

      With a gleam in her eyes, and armed with a stick,

      I knew in a moment it's my butt she would kick.

      She drew in a deep breath, I quivered in shame,

      She shouted , and heckled, then bellowed my name!

      Get out of my kitchen, you're just in the way.

      I can't stand your face for even one more day.

      Cut carrots,

      Chop Celery,

      Slice onion,  and ham.

      Make Gravy,

      Do it your way,

      I don't give a damn.

      As the yelling subsided, I wished I could die,

      My little boy shuddered and started to cry.

      Then mommy took over, I ran in fear,

      I hid in the basement and sipped on a beer.

      And then, in a twinkling, I heard a crash on the floor,

      Then wailing and crying and a slamming front door.

      I went to the kitchen to find no one there,

      The mess that had happened was too much to bear

      I laughed when I saw it, the food on the shelf!

      We're out of time, I said to myself.

      I thought for a moment, "This isn't so bad,

      Let's go have dinner with my mom and my dad

      We drove to their house, and told them the deal,

      and begged them to let us come in for a meal.

      Mom spoke not a word, Dad had a big smirk,

      And said to my face that I was a big jerk.

      He then thumbed his nose and slammed the door shut,

      I looked at Josh and Dessy and said "Now what?"

      She suddenly smiled, and said "I know a way!"

      And away we all went to the Country Buffet.

      We all ate our fill, for $ seven ninety nine,

      Then went back to the house for a cheap glass of wine.

      As we fell asleep on the sofa, a voice yelled out in the night,

      "Happy Thanksgiving to all to all, and to all a big fight!

Thanks a lot.

I have a lot to be thankful for, and it seems appropriate that I express it during the week of our Thanksgiving holiday.

The first thing I am thankful for is deafness in the elderly. Two Sundays ago it was my turn to be a greeter for our church. I took Josh, my 3 year old with me, because what could be more cute than a sweet little boy holding out his hand and saying "Good morning, Thank you for coming!"? If only it were that simple. As we smiled and greeted the stream of people coming in to worship, Josh shook the hand of an elderly woman then as she walked away Josh crinkled his nose and announced, ''She smells like a Hoover vacuum!" I could not shush him up soon enough.

I am thankful for Paul Mitchell brand Ultra Sculpting  Hair Styling Gel for Men. A few days ago my wife made a comment that my hair was getting a little long and that I should consider a haircut. Not wanting to shell out $25 dollars, I figured I could save money and do it myself. I have cut my hair numerous times in the past, I just take the electric clippers and buzz it down so close that I look like Uncle Fester. Dessy made me promise not to do a buzz cut, so I went to the mirror and proceeded to try and cut my hair with scissors. After about 4 good clips I knew I was in trouble, but after 3 more to the top, I was beyond hope. Dessy came and rescued me, trimming the sides of my head before I ruined that too. I asked if she had ever done this before? She sort of choked back a laugh and that was all the answer I needed. She got done, and said "Not so bad, you owe me $25 plus a tip." I for the life of me do not see how this translates to me saving money. In fact it is going to cost me more, because the damage I did to the top requires me to use the hair gel. Now my hair is all spiked up and I have the look of a frightened cat.

I am thankful for sugar and chocolate syrup. Last week I tried to use soy milk in my coffee. I was told that this would be a healthier alternative to using heavy cream. It turns out that if you use enough coconut flavored syrup and chocolate, you can totally forget how awful the soy milk tastes. I cannot see how it is healthier however, because my coffee drinks went from being about 80 calories to 500.

I am thankful for hard headed kids. Last week I was working in my home office down in my basement. About once an hour there would be a thunderous crash, then a wail of a child, followed by the panicky screams of my wife.
The 1 year old likes to climb now up on the couch, the bed, the kitchen table, you name it. The 3 year old likes to stand on the backrest of the couch and jump to other pieces of furniture. About 67 percent of the time one of them  ends up landing on his head. Both of the kids were pretty rowdy, and after a while they were falling down so often you would think it was raining bowling balls in my living room.

I am thankful for vegetarian propaganda films. Last month my wife watched a you tube video about how animals are treated before being processed into oh so delicious steaks, fried chicken or bacon. My wife was horrified by how the animals were dispatched. (that means killed in a violent and wildly violent manner, but it sounds civilized) As I saw the graphically astounding videos on the killing of pigs, cows, and turkeys I was not affected in the same profound manner that my wife was. Her response was to swear off of meat and now she is a vegetarian. My response was to get up and go to the fridge to see if we had any fried chicken leftovers. The way I saw it was that God gave me canine teeth for a reason, and I would be sinning if I did not to use them in the way they were meant to be. So I am thankful too,that this Thanksgiving, there will be an extra serving of white meat for me.

Most of all, I am thankful for sarcasm and humor, without either I would surely be much more of a cynic.

Don't you know better Daddy?

As my 3 year old matures, he gets smarter and more infuriating. Unlike his father, who as he ages just de-evolves on an hourly basis. I would like to think that there is a corollary here, even a transfer  as I get dumber, he is taking the I.Q. points that I am hemorrhaging, and he gets the benefit of it all. But give me three more hours and I won't even understand that last sentence.

I finally broke down and taught my son the trick that every man should pass on to his male offspring. The "Pull My Finger" trick. I called Josh over and said, "Grab my finger!" He was hesitant for some reason, perhaps his sense of self preservation was screaming for him to run while he still could. He squeezed my finger and I delivered the goods. It was an amazing sight, the shock followed instantly by sheer delight in his face. He could not wait to try this on his own, and let me tell you, he is a fast learner. I could not be more proud.

Last week we got one of our first good snow falls. It was coming down hard and fast and I made sure to check the trees throughout the night. I had to go out 1 1:30 a.m. and again at 4:30 a.m. to shake the heavy wet snow off of our new cherry trees before the branches broke off from the extra weight. Of course I did not dress for the occasion, I just put on a pair of shoes and ran out and did what needed to be done. Now, as a rule I like to be fully clothed when I go outside, but this was an emergency and I sort of figured that is any of my neighbors were staring out at my back yard at in the wee hours of the morning, then they just deserved the enchanting horror of seeing a fat guy in his loosely tied robe shaking the daylights out of a tree.

Early the next morning I looked out the front and saw that the snow was piling up all over and I got the numb idea to do a snow angel in my short pants and light short sleeved shirt. I asked Dessy to get the camera, and
raced out to the back yard in bare feet. I immediately slipped on the ice and landed on my left knee. I cried and whined like a puppy caught in a trap. It was just disgusting. I got back in the house, put on shoes and returned to complete the mission. Dessy took the picture and I returned to the house.

 
A couple of hours later I noticed that the pain was still pretty bad and I finally checked out my knee,only to discover that I had abraded the skin off the kneecap. I was sitting down when Josh approached me and looked very concerned at the swelling and bruising. He decided it was time to lecture me on bad behavior. "Daddy, what happened? Did you fall down on the ice?" I nodded, and he continued on with the lesson. "Daddy, why don't you wear shoes outside in the snow? If you wear shoes you won't fall down!" Every day since, Josh has pulled me aside to ask that again. I think that he is convinced that I still do not have a clue and that he will drive this point home by sheer repetition.

Last night I was changing the baby and the older child was observing. With a gasp he asked "Daddy! Why does he have a hole in his butt?" I calmly stated that everyone has that, but he was still full of questions. "Do I have that?" I affirmed that he did and it was normal. " Does Mommy have a hole in her butt too?"
I mumbled, "No son, she has your daddy."