Thanksgiving Stories

Our grandson Peter is a Sophomore at the University of California at Santa Barbara and lives in a house with nine other guys. This has the potential for being a total disaster. When our son Tim did a similar thing at UC Davis they were all such slobs that, though they were good friends, they knew they dared not live together for another year. Peter's group, on the other hand, have managed with some level of domesticity this year and even managed to cook and eat together a traditional Thanksgiving dinner. He got home at 4am today because a fire is burning in Santa Barbara and classes were cancelled for today, so he and his friend Luke decided to leave last night.

Last Thanksgiving I announced that I was NEVER cooking another turkey. It turns out that nobody else really likes turkey either. son-in-law Jim, who is from the Midwest where Thanksgiving traditions are still firmly entrenched, commented that maybe HE would cook a turkey. Then he said maybe he would cook the whole meal. I took him up on it on it post haste!. He isn't too fond of traditional green veggies, so I said I would do those. Turns out he isn't even making a turkey.

John and I went to Oliver's Market first thing this morning armed with a list of veggies and drinks in hand. The Wednesday before Thanksgiving is the most hectic day of the year to shop there because:
1) It is the day before Thanksgiving, and
2) Wednesday is senior citizens' discount day. 
The aisles are narrow and the store is a bit too small to contain all it has to offer, and on Wednesday, every aisle is blocked filled by
1) A little old lady (like myself) standing in the middle of the aisle consulting her list or
2) An old gentleman (like John) standing in the middle of an aisle rearranging everything in the cart in order of sturdiness.
I usually don't go to Oliver's with John who treats the whole experience like some kind of race/board game, allowing no time for idle browsing through the magnificent chanterelle mushrooms or 300 varieties of cheese, but I went with him today because I knew the place would be a madhouse. I spoke sternly before leaving about taking a deep breath before going in, and trying to enjoy the festivity of the holiday instead of harassing me.

He couldn't resist saying as we walked through the parking lot to the car that we had bought our green beans and Brussels' sprouts in record time...

Somehow every year we seem to have some sort of plumbing disaster on or just before Thanksgiving. This year it was a leaking toilet. We called the plumber this morning and were ever so lucky to get him to come and fix it today. He actually fixed both toilets, one involved red food coloring and the other involved the application of olive oil to the handle. 

He's an old school Italian and we spent an extra hour talking to him about all and sundry things, including food, solar panel storage batteries, electricians, our dogs, fixing the urinals in the movie theatre, and how to spatchcock a turkey... I am ever so grateful that we don't have to host a Thanksgiving meal with only one working toilet. 

It started raining just as the plumber left. and I was very happy to see the raindrops on the window. It is now dark and raining hard as I write. We're looking forward to holing up in the TV room this evening with the fire on...Now that's what I call seasonal....