Hells Yeah, It’s Thanksgiving Gurl!

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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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I’m Too Tired For Turkey

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Here we are on the eve of Turkey Day – the day in which we Americans suck down pounds of fowl and carbohydrates in an attempt to remember all those things for which we are grateful. Thanksgiving has long been my number one as far as holidays go.(I venture to guess most of those with a fondness for food feel the same.) What’s not to love? It’s the gateway to the holiday baking season. Usually, Thanksgiving revs me up and I cannot wait to get my Martha on. But this year, I’m just not feeling it. My Martha hand is limp.

Why? Though we’re currently in a giant medical wait-and-see zone with the Nugget and I have a gazillion things to be thankful for in regards to getting us to this point, I’m not sure why the Turkey Day love isn’t spewing out of me. Maybe because it’s been a rough few months and though I’ve roasted my pie pumpkins (Damn right I make those pies from scratch- crust and all.) and my rolls are rising (Yes, I make those too. Nothing tastes as good as handmade artistry –according to Martha.) I still can’t get into the turkey spirit. Ultimately, I think I’m just too damn tired. In the interest of trying to get to the root of the issue, I decided to make a list and put my finger on why I was so tired but my list just kept growing.

I’m tired of hearing tests. (He can’t hear the beep. He’s got one ear and he’s 2. Let it go lady!)

I’m tired of having our days dictated by therapies and doctor appointments.

I’m tired of pouring my energy into therapies and seeing no results.

I’m tired of diagnosises.

I’m tired of worrying.

I’m tired of my football team sucking. (I’m looking at you Eagles. You’re always hard to love but this is ridiculous.)

I’m tired of snot flowing freely in my home. (For real, someone always has a cold lately.) 

I’m tired of my weird neighbor doing things in the middle of the night- and by doing things I mean I’m pretty sure he’s hiding bodies. (Ok, maybe I’m just tired on this one because I’m up in the night spying out the window on my weird neighbor -but it’s my civic duty thought right? You’re right. I need a job.)

I’m tired of living in a home with three languages and yet still, no one listens to me. (I scream in Turkish, I yell in English, I sign. Nothing. Nada.)

I’m tired of chasing a two-foot graffiti artist with a Mr. Clean Magic Eraser.(I’ve yet to identify a surface that he has not tagged. PS – Magic Eraser doesn’t work on white carpet.)

I’m tired of temper tantrums. (And no, I’m not going to disclose if those are mine or the Nuggets.)

I’m tired of stupid people. (Why are they everywhere and who gave them all such free reign on the interweb? I feel like their numbers are growing exponentially lately. Perhaps Donald Trump can create a registry for them. )

I’m tired of politics. (Your hate filled rhetoric is destroying us, you morons. Grow up.)

I’m tired of the hate that is taking over this world.(Suck it up and get along. I blame the push to remove Coke from our diets. Back in the 70’s we had a Coke, we taught the world to sing. It was all good.)

I’m tired of religion. More specifically, I’m tired of people being asshats in the name of religion. (If you’re going to be an asshat, be an asshat. You don’t need any help from God. And P.S., he knows when you’re being an asshat, did you ever think about that?)

Yes, I’m tired but I’ve got hope because I believe in Turkey Day Miracles. See, I know myself well enough to know that a day or two in the kitchen, dusted in flour (gluten free now as we had to add that to our list of issues – nothing’s easy) and glowing with turkey juice, I’ll feel better.Thanksgiving-Chef-VintageGraphicsFairy1 (1)

Later in the day after I’ve added a pound of pie and a gallon of wine to my short frame, I’ll feel awash in happiness and my tiredness will subside.

By Friday I will deck my halls to the musical stylings of Big Bird singing Frosty while Charlie Brown plays on the T.V. (We’ve been learning to sign Christmas carols too so Nugget won’t be left out. When you sign a carol it’s like instant choreography and who doesn’t love choreography?)

Saturday I will brave the stupid people and venture out shopping, only to return home to the welcoming arms of leftover turkey and Amazon.com where I will buy the things I wanted to buy but was deterred from by the stupid people. By Sunday, I will nap in the recliner while watching crappy football (Safe from disappointment after having watched the Eagles lose on Thanksgiving) warm under the weight of a napping Nugget and a snuggling Midget as a fire glows and my newly decked halls twinkle.

I’m tired but I will be better after these four days off because as my new patron saint Wendy Williams says, “The ocean, after all, is not about stability but about change. Change is normal. Everything changes all the time.And of course, she’s right. I might be tired now but things will change. Things will even out and the worries will fade (or change). I don’t have much hope for that whole stupid people thing  though, but then again, you never know.

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