Hells Yeah, It’s Thanksgiving Gurl!

turkey-riding

The time is upon us again and my heart, with her arteries prepared to clog within days, is all a twitter. Why? Because, my friends, it is nearly Thanksgiving the most wonderful time of the year.

I’ve always had a solid love of Thanksgiving (not really that odd for a fat kid) and that love has only grown stronger with age. During our years living in Turkey, I deemed November the “Month of Which We Do Not Speak” and would refer to the month only by it’s Turkish name, Kasim, so I would not be reminded of what I’d lost. (On more than one occasion post-repatriation, I have legitimately been asked how the Turks celebrate Thanksgiving so I feel like I should issue a little reminder that while there is a Thanksgiving turkey, there is no Thanksgiving in Turkey. I’ll just leave that there. No need to admit if you had to think about it. I judge silently.)

While many people get the tingles at the mere mention of Christmas, I do not. I’m not a fan of the Holly Jolly. Christmas is hectic and expensive. There is always high drama and high expectations and quite frankly, ain’t nobody got time for that. The Turkish version of Christmas happens on December 31st and includes a skinny dude with a ‘stache called Baba Noel delivering, one – just one- gift to ring in the new year. None of this 3-month lead up, no stores blaring Christmas music from the first of October and they give you a whole extra prep week. I’ve lobbied for this approach in America with no takers. (America, considering our current plague of obesity, would it be so bad to have a chain-smoking, trim Santa as a role model?)

No, Thanksgiving is my jam. Last year Thanksgiving came after a dismal autumn that included Nugget’s kidney reconstruction, copious visits to get his hearing aid fitted, his Apraxia diagnosis and our introduction to learning ASL. Mama was playing stay-at-home mom so funds were tight and I was weighing my options for pole-dancing as a means to provide Christmas. It was not our finest November and even Thanksgiving couldn’t bring me around.

But this year…this family is in fighting form! Mama’s back to work in a job that does not include dancing or poles, (Yes society, your collective sigh of relief is audible.) Nugget’s kidney is pumping like new. And though he has a love/hate relationship with it, his hearing aid has been a game changer for his speech and while he still uses ASL to communicate on the reg, he also never shuts up. (Though I can only decipher about 50%, in his mind he’s fluent and has gone so far as to begin adding in some Turkish which isn’t all that helpful but amazing all the same.) This year Thanksgiving, it is GAME ON.

I made my menu last Friday and had 90% of my food shopping done by Saturday morning (and booze…of course I already bought the booze.) On Sunday, I began the great turkey thaw of ’16 so I can brine that bird on Tuesday. Monday I sent the Turk (who took the week off to use up some vacation time with the intention of winterizing our world, but instead became my Girl Friday…or I guess that would be my Turk Friday.) all over the city in search of missing ingredients. Before you feel too bad for the Turk, know that while he’s relatively new to this whole Thanksgiving thing, he is a Black Friday junkie and he spent much of Sunday laying out his own plan of attack for the wee hours of Friday morning.

Tuesday as I lovingly rub Lonna, (That’s this year’s bird. I find I put in more effort if I name them. Don’t judge me.) and whisper sweet nothings into that little slot where her head used to be, I will cover her in brine and await the glory of what she will become. Tuesday evening I will return home after a hard day at school, elated to begin Thanksgiving break. As I turn Lonna in her brine, in a celebratory gesture, I’ll grab her by the wings and turn my kitchen into a dance floor as Lonna and I execute a quality Argentinian Tango. (I get all my moves from Dancing With the Stars. So does Nugget.)

Wednesday is what I like to call the pregame. Pies, cake, relishes, rolls and anything else I can chop, dice or shred. Don’t expect meals, children, Mama’s got cooking to do. Number One Son will be whipping up piecrusts while Nugget proofs the yeast…ok more like Number One will whine about going to play outside while Nugget rubs roasted pumpkin into the cat’s fur.

And Thursday when my alarm goes off at it’s usual ungodly hour I will rise without once even considering snooze, pull on my fatigues,(or yoga pants, whichever is clean) paint my face with camo (or moisturizer as camo make-up makes my glasses slide down my nose) and take my place at the kitchen counter, prepared for greatness.

It’s been a crap year. 2016 has held maximum suckage. We’ve lost greats, lived on edge for an entire year, been bombarded with stupidity on so, so many fronts, face great uncertainty about our future and elected a moron. But even amid all that, my family has so much to be thankful for and what better way to celebrate than by stuffing ourselves into obesity with high quality edibles made with love by a surly mother. (I’m pretty sure that’s how the first Thanksgiving got started too.)

So do as I’ve been doing since about November 9th, turn off the television (except for football or Dancing With The Stars) unplug from the stress of social media (love you all but the break has done me good) explore new wines, play obscene amounts of Uno with the kids and enjoy this fine, fine holiday.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING From the Turks!!!!

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Pardon My Dance Break…

dancing boys

Like most discerning television enthusiasts just shy of age 3, Nugget has sophisticated viewing tastes. He loves the hard-hitting facts exposed in Sid the Science Kid, the fast-paced adrenaline rush of Paw Patrol and the gritty work-place drama of The Odd Squad. While he’d love to be an avid binge-watcher, he’s only allowed that luxury in the presence of phlegm or vomit. (his or mine). After a hard day on the swings, nothing takes the edge off like kicking back with a juice box in one hand and the TV remote in the other.

While his television viewing is generally age appropriate, (with the exception of his unexplainable love of The Goldbergs which I fear is due to seeing his own Smother in the adoringly oppressive Beverly) there is one show that we just can’t keep him away from and due to the scantily clad nature of the ladies, the age appropriateness is questionable. My Nugget is currently obsessed with Dancing With The Stars and while he’s danced with fandom in recent seasons, this time around he is obsessed, even requesting a Dancing With The Stars themed birthday party.

Every morning upon waking, he signs – Dancing With The Stars tonight? If my answer is yes, he’s elated. If it’s no he demands a quick fix from YouTube so he can carry on with his day. This coming week’s two-night finale is likely to blow his tiny mind. (Back to back Dancing? Madness!) An odd obsession for a toddler boy or is he merely emulating his adoringly oppressive mother’s interests much like his love of Wonder Woman and the musical stylings of Flo Rida? Or is this the first sign that finally, after losing hope with Number One Son following 8 years of less than stellar art projects and school performances, that my Nugget may have gotten my artsy farty gene? A mama can only hope but I venture to guess his current obsession stems from something far deeper.

See, Nugget is Team Nyle all the way and waits in anticipation for any glimpse of his dancing hero. For those of you, (unlike Nugget and by extension now, even the Turk) who aren’t DWTS fans, Nyle DiMarco is a profoundly deaf actor and model (and fine male specimen) that was the recent winner of America’s Next Top Model. (No, Nugget is not a fan of ANTM, nor am I. Tyra, love ya girl but that show is ridiculous.) Winning Top Model and being deaf gave him a direct path to the token “disabled star” slot on the latest season of Dancing With The Stars.

As with most television programing, this show also has a formula that relies on stereotypes and the token disability slot is part of that, as is the token geriatric slot, the old jock slot, the rehabilitated child star slot, the washed-up musician slot and the hottie-past-her-prime slot. But much to the surprise of both the DWTS producers and its fan base, (primarily old broads and their bored husbands (oh, and Nugget too)) this year’s token disabled star quickly proved that he wasn’t disabled at all.

In case you, unlike myself, have not spent the past few years pouring over audiograms and learning about the four levels of hearing loss, being Profoundly Deaf means you hear nothing and even aided you still hear nothing. That means that when this man is dancing, he is dancing to complete silence. (Suck on that Baryshnikov.) And in case you are not watching this season, the “disabled” man who dances to silence has been absolutely amazing, receiving top scores and far surpassing the rest for the competition for the entire season. But better than that, he’s used his time in the spotlight to push his political agenda, one that happens to be mine- bilingual (ASL and speech) language acquisition for all deaf and hard of hearing children. (Click here, in case you missed my high horse tirade on the matter and want to better understand why this is even a thing.)

From political appearances to forming the Nyle DiMarco Foundation, this man has made huge strides in the push for bilingual education for all deaf kids all in the midst of rehearsing a cha-cha and polishing his pasa doble. In addition to this activism that warms the hearts of parents like me, what’s much more important is his role modeling. My Nugget is obsessed with Dancing With The Stars because when he is watching he sees a guy that talks with his hands just like he does. He sees a guy that learns with his eyes, just like Nugget does and he sees a guy that keeps it classy in a world that is growing increasingly trashy. (Just like Nugget damn well better do when he’s a grown man or his mama is going to take care of that.)

Something tells me that when the producers filled the token disabled contestant slot with Nyle DiMarco, they had no idea that he would prove again and again that being deaf is not a disability but rather, a different approach. They also had no idea that he would bring with him not only the entire Deaf community, but the parents of deaf and hard of hearing kids, advocates, supporters, educators and anyone who works with these kids, one little chubby toddler in Indiana and tons of other kids who see themselves in this guy and millions of viewers who are shocked to have their preconceived notions of the deaf obliterated by dance.

It’s wonderful to see someone using this ridiculous platform that is Dancing With The Stars for good instead of trying to reignite a flailing career. Good on you Nyle DiMarco. This family will be watching you in the finals next week. (Not like we have any other choice…Nugget rules.) You’ve certainly got our votes but I am hopeful that this love affair will fade before I have to come up with a Dancing With The Stars themed birthday cake in July. I already have all those football decorations…

dancing girl