Zona

Happy Thanksgiving, originally uploaded by Dan Lilly.

I always take glee because I get this frozen turkey cheap along with the purchase of x-amount of groceries. I buy way too many pillsbury crescent rolls because my love goes Mrs Cubbins stuffing, jellied cranberry sauce, crescent rolls, turkey, everything else.

Thanksgiving morning I get up and see that the pies are made. I peek at the TV to see who's beating the Detroit Lions and then I chop two cups of celery and two cups of onions. I saute' them in two cups of butter and then dump that onto two boxes of Mrs Cubbins stuffing mix. I add at least one can of chicken broth and voila'.

I'm a basic stuffing kinda guy. No dates or raisins or nuts or oysters or fruit or M&M's for me. When the pies are done I stuff the bird and toss it in. Now I'm off duty for the next 4-5 hours.

Zoom forward to me yelling "THE TURKEY'S READY!!"

Now this is our annual panic mode time. Magaly peals and chops potatoes and puts them to boil. I put the rest of the stuffing in the oven and grab two cookie sheets. I grab the crescent rolls and start popping them in the oven. While they're baking I'm in and out of the closest room holding a TV to watch whatever football game or movie is on. We all have a tradition of yelling, "WATCH THE BREADS!" ever since I stayed to long in front of the TV and the breads burned. Literally. I took them out and half of them were on fire. It was the funniest thing I've ever seen on Thanksgiving. The crescent rolls had burst into flames.

So every year we go into panic mode and every year I get angry but tell myself to calm down because this is our ritual every year and the turkey waits patiently under a double blanket of aluminum foil. Magaly does the potatoes, yams, corn, peas, one of the kids slices the cranberry sauce and one sets the table. I finish the breads and butcher the bird. We get it all to the table and attack.

Turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, mashed taters, yams, 2 breads, gravy over everything, a glass of milk and I'm set. All this work and I have my reward.

Then it happens.

Half way to 3/4's through the plate and I've hit the wall. Every year I feel this great disappointment. I'm full. I'm like, "this is IT? I'm FULL??" Maybe it's a marathon type thing and I've collapsed after crossing the line. Maybe it's the pound of uncooked stuffing I've eaten during the day? It's my Thanksgiving, big deal moment. I finish my plate and stagger back to a TV to recover. After about an hour I need a coke and two hours beyond that I'll have some pie with my plate of whipped cream.

// posted by sinner @ 8:21 PM