I am thankful to my daughter for sharing with her friend the fact that I think I need a face lift, and will now be hosting one of those “face-lift in a bottle” party. Gonna take a little more than some lotion to lift all these chins!
I am thankful that I have a washer and dryer. Not that I love to do laundry, but whenever my son (the one that moved to Queens) finds his hamper overflowing he comes to Brooklyn. To see me. His laundry misses me.
I am thankful that I have a husband that snores like a pissed off bear. I am equally thankful that he has restless leg syndrome or some other freakazoid ailment that has him twitching for most of the night. Sleep is highly over rated anyway!
I am thankful for safety pins. (don’t ask)
I am thankful for my mother in law’s generosity. She shares, without hesitation her best bowel stories right down to the quality, quantity and I am sorry to say, color. Like a jeweler rating a diamond cut, my mother in law makes sure I know exactly how she went that day…and every other day for that matter.
I went shopping for my Thanksgiving dinner. We are 19 this year, counting the kids and a baby. I didn’t need a list since my Thanksgiving fare is basically the same each year.
Antipasto (with fresh crusty bread and smoked mozzarella cheese courtesy of the bowel lady),
Pasta (this year it is ravioli since the kids really don’t like lasagna, manicotti, stuffed shells or anything else I could have bought threw sauce on and baked….and it was on sale),
Turkey (Butterball, by default),
Bread stuffing (my mom’s famous sausage and chestnut stuffing which only half the people like but I love and I make as a tribute to Gracie….even though she wasn’t the best cook in the world her stuffing was amazing, although she did make a really neat lemon meringue pie with real merangue, not that sweet marshmallow shit they serve at diners)….breath 2,3, 4…
Vegetables…every one they’ve ever grown on Farmville and then some,
Sweet Potatoes (which I layer with brown sugar and marshmallows before I bake just in case my blood sugar isn’t high enough already),
Mashed Potatoes (which I would love to use the boxed instant shit but won’t because I would have to bury the boxes so my son and grandsons won’t find them),
Turkey Gravy (which I start with a canned version and then add bird droppings drippings to make it look and taste more like homemade), and of course dessert.
Pies (my sister in law makes one for probably every berry out there,
cookies (my neice makes amazing chocolate chip cookies that I refuse to put out until I have made myself sick in the kitchen huffing them as I plate the food),
the insanely overpriced Chocolate Cornucopias my husband buys from the bakery every year that start out as a table decoration get in the way, removed from the table, then forgotten until the next day where he enjoys them all by himself…maybe that was his plan all along),
Nuts (which I serve in my 50 year old wooden nut bowl that was carved by a neighbor when I was a kid and was bequeathed to me when they died…that or they bought it at one of those cheap souvenir stores in Florida and lied way back when to a trusting little girl),
Figs (which make me fart),
Thin Mints (which I just realized… I finished yesterday) and finally
Fruit (which oddly reminds me of my brother since he used to juggle the fruit while I hummed some melodic circus tune and my mother called us, 'wasters').
I got my wagon, geared up for the crowd and went shopping. The first stop was the produce…fennel (which no one but me eats), lettuce, potatoes and all the fruit. When did oranges start costing 89 cents apiece? Bananas (green so they can ripen in time for Thursday), apples and grapes (which my granddaughter loves and I cut into miniscule pieces for fear of choking) and a bag of tangerines which promptly tears open from the bottom sending orange orbs rolling across the store. Sliced Salami and provolone cheese from the deli, and just in case…pepperoni chunks. (You just never know when you will need a chunk of pepperoni!) The rest of the shop went pretty well until I got to the turkey. I am not a fan of Butterball, although I honestly have forgotten why specifically. They carried three brands….$2.39 a pound for a bird blessed by a Rabbi (was that before or after they whacked his head off I wonder), $1.99 for Butterball (which comes with a hot line number in case you want to call and reem out someone when the bird burns because the pop up timer didn't pop in time.) and .99 for Frank’s which came with feet and feathers. I opted for the unblessed, bald, footless Butterball. The Butterball’s were in the freezer case which seemed odd since the flyer said ‘never frozen’. I opened the door which was already slightly ajar and seven 20+ pound frozen turkeys came tumbling out barely missing my feet. (Damn, I could have had some viable law suit there!) The Mexican stock boy who was on a ladder trying to stack paper towels atop the freezer unit simply looked down from his perch and laughed. (Thanks Julio but guess what, these frozen projectiles will remain on the floor until you come down and help me.) He did, but before the birds were tucked safely back in their frozen nest I picked a 19 pound self-basting Butterball. I named him Al. Happy Thanksgiving to Al...I mean All!
u forgot to mention my stuffed mushrooms!
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