*hiccup*

Well. That was…nifty. In a totally “pass me that big-ass carving knife so I can slit my own throat” kinda way.

Quote Of The Day #3, (courtesy of my mother):
“J. [otherwise known as Dr. March] left ten minutes ago to pick up his black musician friend.” [emphasis most assuredly not mine]

As opposed to his “Jewish musician friend” and his “Italian musician friend” and his “gay musician friend,” all of whom celebrated Thanksgiving elsewhere this year, lucky bastards. But it’s good to know Ma has them all categorized by ethnicity and/or sexual orientation. Otherwise, we might FORGET. And then…chaos in the streets…dogs and cats living together…you get the idea.

The menu:
~cream-cheese-and-pistachio stuffed Medjool dates
~Greek olives stuffed with garlic cloves
(*sigh* “I miss pimentos.”
“Ma, you don’t even eat olives.”
“It’s the principle of the thing.”)
~turkey
(”I keep hearing about this whole brining thing, but who wants a pickled turkey?”
“Whatever you say, Ma.”)
~sage-onion dressing
~almond dressing
~gravy
~cranberry relish
(”Why can’t we just have it from the can? It’s traditional!”
“Because it’s my @#$#%$ house, Ma, that’s why.”)
~garlic and cracked black pepper mashed potatoes
~hard-shell candied sweet potatoes
~bacon-spiked creamed corn
~fresh green beans steamed with pearl onions
~creamy coleslaw
~homemade pies: apple, pumpkin, pecan
~pumpkin bars
~homemade eggnog
(”Are you spiking that eggnog?”
“I’m seriously considering it, yes. Why?”
“It’s just not necessary.”
“Are you drinking the eggnog, Ma?”
“You know I hate eggnog.”
“Right.” *up-ends bottle of rum*)
~cranberry punch
~lots and lots o’ wine

Quote of The Day #2, (also – imagine the coincidence – courtesy of my mother):
“I just can’t understand why anyone would want to vacation in India in the first place. I mean, of all places…INDIA??”

I’m not saying it wasn’t worth it. Nor am I saying I won’t ever do it again. But given that I’m weeks behind on two deadlines and haven’t provided a syllable of value to any of my crit partners in what feels like months AND we’re leaving for a Tacoma in *gulp* three weeks, I think maybe I bit off more than I could chew this year.

Quote of the Day #1, (courtesy of Youngest Spawn, eleven-and-a-half next month):
*looks down at me as I’m sprawled at the end of my bed, drunk on eggnog, glasses askew, still fully-dressed down to the gravy-smudged apron and says…*
“Just so you know? I’m NEVER doing Thanksgiving.”

And rob me of my chance to drive you to the crumbling edge of bloody, poultry-scented matricide? We’ll see, little girl. We’ll see.