This is the first year in over a decade that we have skipped Thanksgiving at my sister's home and are having our own small dinner at home. Liv's Father is here, his old assistant and our good friend, Nirand is here. My old med school buddy, Vince is here with his partner, Thuan. And our next door neighbors, Linda and Sven are here. Well. they will be here in a few hours.
The turkey is in the roaster in our brand spanking new oven. Stuffin is stuffed. Potatoes ready to be peeled and boiled. Rolls from here:
Pies baked and ready. Olive and pickles daintily arranged on plate by someone other than me, who is not talented at this kind of thing.
5 bottles of Number 8 on this list:
Our one distraction: we are in the midst of an ice storm. This is so typical of the prairie. We had Indian Summer straight through the middle of November. And now the perky ass weather guy is cheerfully telling us that we are in for at least an inch of ice. This wouldn't be so bad if we lived in the newer part of our city where all the power lines are underground and the only trees are about two feet tall. No, we live in a very old part of the city where there are many, many power and cable lines above ground and an incredible amount of old oak trees. An inch of ice can easily mean a loss of power. But, fingers are crossed that when that does happen, we may all be too soused to notice. Well, hopefully not Liv. She can herd us all to bed.
This year, I am deliberately NOT doing the going around the table thing and saying what we are thankful for. This was always done at my Sister's home and always ruined by my racist brother in law, who would say, "I'm grateful that none of my kin is married to a (rhymes with bigger)!" And then, he would guffaw while I sputtered around and protested that this was an AWFUL thing to say and shame on his stupid head, etc. etc. etc. Eventually, my Sister was able to get him to be less obnoxious when I threatened to not show up if he didn't stop. But, he still managed to get his digs in. ("I'm grateful that this is Obama's last term, that Muslim towel head.") My other sisters told me that they always warned their kids in the car on the way to our sister Patrice's house to ignore Uncle Bob. I almost always began singing "Pop, Goes the Weasel" halfway through his sentence, so that no one could hear it.
Good times. Good times.
No, this time, we have all agreed to share the worst thing that has happened to us this year and the winner gets to opt out of helping with clean up. I am so fucking smart. I mean, who is going to beat "Well, I was diagnosed with cancer this year....."? We also have a hat full of charade names of movies, books, songs or quotes in one of my big summer sunhats. And since every person at my table except Linda, Vince and me plays an instrument, there has been some practicing going on in our music parlor. Bing on piano. Liv on violin. Tinton and Nirand on guitar, Thuan on marimba, and Sven on drums. Bing has promised that she plans to sing "our song."
I know, I know....not very romantic. But, it is us. And I can't tell you how incredibly sexy she looks when she plays those opening bars of the song on her guitar (she'll be off piano for that one.) She does this thing with her shoulder. You can see the guy in the video do it, but she does it so much better.
Liv and Tinton are also going to do a Lakota dance and song for us in full outfits. Liv will be reduced to shuffling along with her feet because the Lakota culture believes that Lakota women's feet are shackled to the earth. Tinton will do the full dance, he promises....if his knees hold out. I will just love seeing him all tricked out with his finery, his feathers and face paint. Kind of an odd thing to do for an American Thanksgiving, I know. But, Lakota blood runs halfway through Liv's veins and I want to honor it. Plus her kunsi (paternal grandmother) sent her a new buckskin dress and she looks beautiful in it.
I think that will pretty much fill up our day and maybe, just maybe, the Lakota dance will scare away the ice storm. It is my hope anyway.
I am content. My house if full and warm. The smell of turkey is wafting through the house and I didn't cook it, Thuan, our master chef, did.
Tonight, we are thinking of watching a movie, but so far, we cannot decide on one. This may involve a bit of rock, paper, scissors, I suspect. As of right now, we're watching some Best of Show for dogs. I am truly amazed at how Scottish Terriers are SUPPOSED to look. So is Socks. He is curled up in Thuan's lap, staring in bewilderment at the obedient dogs on the television screen who raise their chins obediently so that strange men can poke into their mouths. We are all assuring him that he would be best in show if we entered him. He may not have that coat that looks like a floor mop or a long beard, but he once came very close to catching a squirrel and he knows exactly what to do when you've had a bad day. So THERE, you other mutts.
Happy holidays to you and care to share your day plans? We are the melting pot. I always love it when someone tells me that they NEVER have turkey, only spaghetti or that they all wear crowns. What does YOUR family do?