Well, Wifey started preparing for the Thanksgiving feast last Saturday. Everyday she did some kind of project and I was kept busy running back and forth to the market like some kind of spousal android. The day before Thanksgiving, she and my daughter-in-law, cleaned and scrubbed the entire house as if there were going to be multiple surgeries. I was restricted to the use of one small bathroom with orders to self-assimilate all bowel movements until Friday.
Out of town family started arriving Wednesday night and I was instructed to wear clean clothes and socks….I hate putting on airs. Anyway, we had a wonderful evening catching up on the family tree and the latest rotten fruits to fall. Later, once everyone was tucked in for the night, Wifey got to baking. Apple, cherry and pumpkin pies. The wondrous smells caused me to have a salivatory epiphany.
As the rest of the clan assembled the next day, hugs and grimaces were exchanged and soon the moment to gather at the table was announced by Wifey. The family responded with the instinct of a hunting pack to a carcass. I stood and quietly prayed while making goofy faces at my youngest grandchild. I’m still catching grief over the Thanksgiving blessing, because I blessed the food and then thanked God for the NFL. All the same, I heard several whispered amen’s at the table. Food was quickly passed and tossed around the table and serving spoons and forks became fencing foils. Once everyone had maxed out their dinner plates with food…..the feast commenced and the table became as quiet as a hunting preserve. Soon there was an eruption of praises and accolades to Wifey’s culinary skills with numerous obligatory request for secret recipes and advice. Wifey waved it all off and whispered that it was really nothing. I stared at her in wonderment, like a deer on adarkened turnpike facing an oncoming Chevy Volt.
The banquet was a great success, but a total disaster in the kitchen. The women folk, except for one who was allergic to soap, jumped in to help clean up and put away all the utensils and cookware. It will take us at least six months to find it all. In due time, all was done and the men all watched football in one room while in another, the women discussed Christmas ideas and the latest episode of The Real Housewives of Slutsville . After the ballgames, most of the crowd loaded up their doggy bags of food and waddled out the front door under a barrage of “be safe,” “take care,” and “sorry, I got gas.” Peace, at last. I finally used the bathroom and went to bed. Wifey started shopping at 5am this morning, “Black Friday,” and shopped for six hours. After playing kamikaze in the parking lots, jousting in traffic and fighting the crowds like ‘The Walking Dead ,’ she then came home and beat me up. It’s worth the beating as long as I don’t have to go shopping. Anyway….there are so many leftovers in the fridge that I still can’t find any of the Butterfingers I hid in the back after Halloween. If I eat one more turkey sandwich, I’m going to hurl giblets! Wifey now wants all the boxes of Christmas junk brought down from the attic this weekend. Maybe I’ll finally find my golf clubs or, at least, our lost cat from last Christmas.
Wifey walked around the house later looking for a good location for the Christmas tree. She said she wants a ten footer this year and that Lowes has them for $129. She looks at me and asks where would be a good place for it. I just grin. She beats me up again. Fact is, I’m jolly for the holidays and all the rushing around and buying everybody nice expensive gifts and then decorating the entire house inside and out while I listen to holiday carols yammer nonstop. I will also love the quarts of jazzed eggnog that I will consume while I get friggin jolly…..happy holidays.