Thanksgiving

I've been finding it hard to actually sit down and write one of these things for a while now. Call it life, but it's been getting in the way. In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I want to share a blog I wrote after last years Thanksgiving. I must say, it was interesting.

"Desperately Seeking Santa. Thanks 2005, I Hate You.

Now don't get me wrong, I enjoyed the parade, but Santa couldn't of come sooner. Let me start from the beginning of the day, Thanksgiving Day 2005. An interesting one, if I may say so myself. My day began at 7:30 this morning, Mary coming into my room and me convincing her that I was already awake, comical I'm sure, but my pride doesn't rest, even when I do. As Margaret had fluttered to Chicago, to do the respectable thing with her family, Mary and I planned on going to the parade. So waking up unreasonably early, which two months ago I was more than accustomed to, I got on my gear, the works, scarf, hat, gloves, and layers layers layers, (it was going to be a cold one.)

Our first surprise of the day was when we swiped our Metrocards only to realize that the holiday discount fee had come into effect, 1 buck, not 2. Glorious! I wasn't overly surprised to see the empty subway chamber at this ungodly hour, but man you could hear a pin drop. (Pin with an "i", thus proving the quiet subway, for perhaps in a slightly louder environment you could still hear a pen drop.) Hipsters must have celebrated the holiday the night before and couldn't be bothered to see this fantastic display of paradism. (Maybe that wasn't a bad idea.) Well this is all beside the point, you see, I felt as if I was responsible to at least witness this once a year event, especially since there is little I have done in NY that could qualify as taking advantage of this city...raping it of its appeal. So the parade it was, and other than nearly falling asleep on Mary's shoulder, I was pumped. I'm not much of a morning person, hell, I'm not much of a person at all before noon. Again, getting off track. So Mary and I settled on 50th street, trying to steer clear of Times Square, but not wanting for go too far uptown! And there we were, in the middle of it all, luckily finding an odd little spot where everyone in front of us didn't reach the height to ride a rollercoaster. And within a few minutes the fireworks started. Okay, so I'm being a tad bit sarcastic. Fireworks no.

From the second the thing started I was desperately seeking Santa. Between the inflated Barneys and Dora The Explorers, and the clowns running around as bad excuses for entertainment, I was standing there just wishing that one of the balloons would get loose and float into the sky, explode, kill a bird, and make children cry. Scooby doo almost got pushed by the wind into the crowd around us, and my heart started beating fast, exhilarated by the possiblity of being a victim of runaway balloon manslaughter. Ahh no such luck, they straightened it out. Eventually Santa showed, marking the end of the parade, and Mary and I, without a word, fled from the crowds of people, Well I actually had an okay time, I lost all feeling in my legs and my head hurt, but all in all, I'm glad I went. I probably won't go again, but it was a cool experience.

So we get home to a crisp, warm apartment, welcoming and enveloping us in an embrace as we push the door open. I get a message from my mom, the desperation in her voice, wanting to know if I was okay. Oh no! We missed something at the parade. Indeed. I call her to discover that I was more powerful than I knew. Shit. I could have used these powers earlier in life. A balloon had in fact knocked a lamp-post sending a stray piece into the crowd, and in effect, sending a 12 and 26 year old to the hospital. Ah, relief, I hadn't killed anyone, they were only scraped and bruised. Whew. Side stepped that land mine.

Okay so the plans for the evening were set. Me and Mary were hosting a Turkey dinner for 6, only three of which I know, and those three included myself and Mary. The other three, complete and utter strangers, some of Sandy's friends. One, named Chandler, his mother, named Nancy, and a friend from out of town, Rachel. Chandler and Rachel, interesting...So I had insisted on making this pie, a chocolate pie my mom always made for holidays such as this, stubbornly I didn't listen to her as she explained the difficulty of making meringue. (The foamy white layer on pies you know...) Well Mary and I were up to the challenge, or at least me, and then Mary by default! I needed help. We whipped this stuff, by hand mind you, for like half an hour, switching as our arms decided that they were going to fall off, it slowly getting thicker and harder to beat. Even as I type now, my arms ache. Ouch. (Mental note: get a blender Thompson.) Mistake ..1-accidentally getting some chocolate into the meringue, not a disaster but an ugly topping to what should have been a lovely pie. Now normally, I would not strike this small error up as a mistake, but the stakes were high.

I know I breezed past this earlier, but there was a mother coming to our dinner. Not my mother, not Mary's mother, a mother I didn't know, a mother of someone I didn't know, a mother who had entrusted her entire Thanksgiving meal to Mary and myself. We were serving her a meal that she had eaten for like 50 years probably flawlessly, probably perfectly. And now there was chocolate in my meringue.

After the meringue incident, I decided that I was finally going to open up that bottle of store bought hair dye and cream my blonde locks to brown. I like the outcome. Continue cooking!

Okay. Mistake ..2-before I knew that we were hosting to someone who was looking for more than a "this is better than nothing" meal, I had brilliantly decided to get to the store and get some turkey from the deli, 2 pounds of thick sliced deli turkey. I was up for whipping up some meringue, but baking a turkey endlessly wasn't something that I even desired to do, just give it to me sliced, cooked, and ready to be served. And now that Mother was coming, it was too late to try and get an actual turkey. The deli slices would have to do! So Mary and I tag teamed the house, finishing cooking, cleaning, arranging tables and chairs, and placing little candles and snacks around for atmosphere. Mary turns on the classical music station on the tv. Ahh classy.

Our guests arrive in twos, with wine, pies, casseroles. The mother seemed very nice, very classy, Mary took her coat and hung in up on the rack. My hands were covered in hard boiled egg shells as I attempted to finish peeling the eggs for the Deviled Eggs I was going to make. I don't think she minded too much, but as she looked at both our prepared dishes and soon to be prepared dishes, I sensed disappointment! So I washed my hands and immediately went over to where she was sitting. She had found a cosy spot in a chair and pulled out an extremely thick,classy looking book and was reading. I asked her if she had ever had sweet tea. No? But she'd like to try mine. Yay! A way in to her acceptance.

Mistake ..3...oh we all know its coming. I pour her a glass of tea and politely hand it to her. Immediatly my mistake becomes obvious, the tea is wayyy too sweet. Yep, she hates it and doesn't mind telling me. "Too sweet, is this dessert?" Yep, she's going to look at my meringue and laugh and not to mention the deli turkey!!! She sticks to water for the remainder of the evening.

Well what started out as a nerve racking, self conscious crazed dinner, ended up to be, as I can find no other way to describe it, lovely. Yes lovely. We ate. We all talked! Everyone was just chatting away and Mary and I, sitting at the heads of the table looked at each other, we had pulled it off. And after dinner, I cleared the plates and no one even got up! We sat there all chatting away. Mother complemented me on the food. And the classical music. Good call Mary. After a 30 minute cool down period, I started serving dessert. The pie ended up being so messy that the chocolate in the meringue wasn't even an issue! And it was a hit! But it was at this point that I realized, hosting a dinner party was soo exhilarating. I mean I've done it before, for my friends, but never for strangers. And it worked. It was a success. People were saying things like "Happy Thanksgiving", and "I'm Stuffed". So post dinner time, after the guests had left, Mary and I turned to the Sounds of the Season music channel and talked about how we could put Christmas lights on the porch tomorrow. We both curled up at opposite ends of the couch, warm and relieved, and watched the Charlie Brown Thanksgiving Special that we had recored earlier. I dosed off happily, happy that a balloon had not crushed me, or exploded mid air, happy that no one had seemed to notice that the turkey was deli sliced. Happy to realize that as an adult, maybe I could do okay."

Thanksgiving 2006 to come.(?)