Take me home, country road

Standard

‘You can pick your friends, and you can (urk) pick your nose, but you can’t pick your friend’s nose’

Apologies for the less-than-elegant subhead, but it seemed perfect for this piece. So I just had to (urk again) pick it.

See, we just spent another glorious Columbus Day Weekend in glorious Upstate New York with friends we must certainly have ‘picked’ most carefully, since we have been together for decades now. For the purposes of this story, and to protect their identity and their feelings (though they both hate social media and are sure never ever to even glimpse this story; why, they wouldn’t even click on it if I sent them the link), they shall be known here as J & P.

Truckin’. Even the trip Upstate has its charms. Here we are in the ‘passing’ lane

We do this thing where we go to Their Place for Columbus Day, and they come to Our Place for Thanksgiving. This has been going on since The Child was an actual child — she learned how to ride a bike at J & P’s; also how to drive (sort of) in a thing they called the ‘Ute’ (for ‘utility vehicle’) — so it made me a tad Mom Sad that she didn’t join us this year.

I looked and looked for this really cute photo of The Child learning to ride her bike on this very road, and couldn’t find it. So this’ll have to do. Couldn’t find the Ute shot either, darn it

But time marches on, as is its wont. The Child is now A Grownup (though I refuse to re-nickname her that) and had her own carefully-picked friends to hang out with this nice long weekend.

But back to the picking-your-friends-to-be-like-family thing. As you Faithful Readers know by now, I do have a most marvelous family. I was exclaiming on the phone to my mother just the other day how lucky I feel to not only get along with my various and sundry family members — even my by-marriage ones — but to actually look forward to seeing them. It’s amazing to me — and my mother — how many people we know who don’t like their sister or hate their brother or can’t stand their (gulp!) mom.

So, our ‘adoption’ of J & P as honorary family members does not mean that we find our blood relations in any way faulty. J & P are rather the icing on the family cake, as it were. And as you may recall from an earlier story of mine involving my Middle Younger Brother Roger, I definitely believe that your family is who you think your family is.

Me, as the turkey in a Thanksgiving Sandwich. On the left is real-relation ‘P’ (The Dude’s sister). On the right is hand-picked-relation ‘P’ of this story

Just how close are we? J & P and We have watched the Oscars in our jammies in a hotel room in Telluride. We’ve marched around Cape May stalking birds at dawn. We’ve been jolted awake by celebratory fireworks in a farmhouse in the middle of a vineyard during harvest time.

J & P know what I look like without under-eye concealer, and either of them would be my first choice to escort me home from a colonoscopy. Granted, like other family members, even the really-related ones, they are less than perfect. They do things like eat in bed and vote for Trump. And even my idiosyncratic Uncle Arlyn doesn’t eat in bed.

Speaking of eating. Dig the Dude’s cowboy steak bone, foreground. And yes, that smiley face belongs to J

But love them we do. And look forward to seeing them on both big Days, Columbus and Thanksgiving. Any other time in between, for that matter.

So, J & P. You will no doubt never clap eyes on this post, but I thank you anyway. For another gobsmackingly gorgeous Columbus Day. And for being part of our chosen family. See you two turkeys at Thanksgiving!

May the sun never set on our friendship

New York City. October 2017

 

Flipping the bird

Standard

‘The upside — and, alas, the downside — of Turkey Day.’

Bless his little birdie heart, that turkey up there looks like he’s flipping me right back. Well, I did roast him, after all.

Many of you will have already seen this photo, which I posted on Facebook before The Dude carved Mr. Turkey up into succulent slices, but after I’d imbibed beaucoup de glasses of wine.

I decided to use it here (the photo, I mean) because A) it got a lot of reaction from my Internet Friends, and B) it gave me lots of good material, in the form of comments. (My opening remark came courtesy Judy R. Thanks, Judy!)

Other clever comments came from Mary Ann B H, who asked if this was “going to be my Christmas Card”, to which I answered “Great idea! If in fact I sent Christmas Cards”. And Debi F, who asked “Did you paint that thing? It’s perfect!?!?!” (No, Debi. No paint was involved in the making of this turkey. But I do have two words for you turkey cooks: convection oven.)

I’m needing all the help I can get with this week’s post because even though Thanksgiving is quite honestly my very favorite holiday (read ‘Turkey Shoot’ for five Rockette-solid reasons why it beats the stuffing out of Christmas), it is also exhausting.

No no, not exhausting. Pretty exhilarating, in fact

No no. Pie-making is not exhausting. Pretty exhilarating, in fact. Especially with Van Morrison on the Bose

It’s not the preparation that’s exhausting. I rather like the pie-making and vegetable-prepping. I even like the table-setting. In fact, those who honor me with their presence on this Best of All Possible Holidays know that I can be rather a Kitchen Nazi, hogging all the chores for myself. (Though this year I did let the Young and Fit haul out the extra folding chairs.) Continue reading

The House Guest Hall of Fame

Standard

‘I hope you had a really really good time’

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a woman in possession of an extra room must be in want of a house guest. (Sorry, Jane Austen.)

When I told The Child about my plan to write a post about house guests (both the really great ones and the really, um, not-so-great ones), she was concerned.

‘Mom! What if one of the Not-So-Great Guests reads your post and sees that you’re writing about him (or her)!’ And I’m like ‘So? Maybe he or she would benefit from being thusly outed. And besides, I don’t think any of them even reads my blog.’ (Another reason they find themselves in the Not-So-Great File).

But then, just the other day, when I was thinking of writing a post featuring a television appearance by Yours Truly in a documentary that appeared on British TV back in the 90’s called ‘Skyscraper’. (I know, I know. You’re very excited and impressed.) I was nervous about appearing, well, self-aggrandizing, and the self-same Child said, ‘Hey. It’s your blog. You can write about whatever you want.’ Continue reading

Leftovers

Standard

‘A few stories that got pushed to the back of the fridge’

I know, I know. It’s Christmas Season. And has been since around Halloween, it seems. And while I like the tinsel and the lights and the music (well, except for ‘Little Drummer Boy’) and, most of all, the sensationally savory scent of evergreen, I’m just not quite ready to let go of Thanksgiving.

For one thing, I have a big ole pot of turkey soup to ladle out. But that’s it for leftovers of the edible kind. Absolutely nothing else is left: not the stuffing, not the mashed potatoes, not the non-powdered-sugar gravy, not the cranberry sauce. And especially not the pies. Which were basically gone by breakfast on Black Friday. (Incidentally, I like to think it’s called ‘Black’ Friday because everyone is sad because the pies are gone.)

Pies, left to right: cranberry-apple, apple, and pumpkin, pre-feast, in the Pie Keeper, AKA laundry room.

Pies, while they still existed. Left to right: apple, cranberry-apple, and pumpkin. In the Pie Keeper, AKA the laundry room

And for another thing, Continue reading

In the kitchen with Dad (and the Coal Miner’s Daughter)

Standard

‘Why it pays to taste while making gravy. Or baking pies.’

Anybody who knows me, either in person or through the Virtual Universe, knows by now that Thanksgiving is my all-time favorite holiday. You can read how and why in last year’s ‘Turkey Shoot’. But if you’d rather just keep reading this, I bet you can guess that Awesome Food is one of the reasons T’giving wins the Holiday Sweepstakes, at least for me:

I’m not going to bother posting a picture of what I consider the absolute best part of this best holiday meal: the gravy. Because, delicious though it might be, gravy just isn’t all that photogenic. Neither is stuffing, which I also adore. Go figure.

Anyway. This is a story about gravy and cherry pie and my Dad and the Coal Miner’s Daughter. Continue reading

Turkey Shoot

Standard

‘At least it’s not Christmas’

Tuesday Night: Sipping a very large Manhattan to reward myself for having made the piecrust (yes, I make my own), I’m tipsily (If that’s not a real word, then it should be) writing my post while waiting for the Big Beef to do its braising thing. (More on Big Beef later.)

Today (if it is in fact Wednesday when you’re reading this) is Thanksgiving Eve. Before I get started raving about Thanksgiving, just take a look at two of the things I like best about this particular holiday:

Fingers crossed this year’s pies are as good as last year’s: Left, apple. On the right, cranberry-apple.

Anyway, I know I promised not to rant. Nor shall I. But allow me to expound instead on the virtues of Thanksgiving. It’s not that I don’t like Christmas. But let’s compare the two festive occasions, shall we? Then, you decide.

Why, in my humble opinion, Thanksgiving beats the tinsel out of Christmas: Continue reading