Thanksgiving weekend is mostly a long string of traditions.
It’s always chaotic even though there is down time.
There is always some sort of adventure, and if you know me…..there is always a story behind the adventure.
We start off the holiday in the kitchen.
And I’m going to tell you what Thanksgiving is like from the cooks perspective.
It starts off really quiet. Getting up early in the morning after having spent the prior day in the kitchen cooking the desserts. I make myself a pumpkin spice latte. The only day I will drink them in the whole year and they don’t come from Starbucks. The sun comes up. And the chopping begins. People begin to file in. Wine is poured. More chopping and mixing ensues. More wine is poured. Only it’s wine made by a 92 year old and it’s made of rhubarb. And who knows what is in it. And he thinks my name is Stan. More people file in. More people mixing and discussing the ins and outs of how gravy should be made although nobody really likes to make gravy or really knows how. Finally it comes down to the last hour and there are 27 people in a tiny space as well as three dogs (not all are mine) and kids whizzing past as the oven door opens and closes. One more glass of wine. Finally dinner is served and I stand at the end of the table cheers my friends and family for coming to eat all this amazing food. I make sure everyone has a mountain of food on their plate. I sit down and try to keep the sweat from dripping down my back to my butt or from my nose to one of the plates passing by me. I can’t remember the last time I actually ate Thanksgiving dinner. The act of eating requires way too much energy. So I nap. And 7 hours later, wake up starving.
That being said…. it’s just the beginning.
I have pie and coffee for breakfast. My own little tradition. And I eat it quietly. And piping hot.
I Immediately de-fall my house and redecorate with Christmas sparkle. Getting ready for the masses all over again.
I trek to one store early in the morning to get my 99 cent poinsettias. 12 of them. Yes I need 12.
And then I pack the car to head over the hill to start the Christmas tree adventure the next day.
Snow of course was predicted, but the roads were dry. They were dry until about 10 miles from where Christmas trees live. And then, the floodgates opened. And then we drove into worst weather I have ever experienced a top a mountain. Blizzard. Blowing snow with little to no visibility. So much so, I refused to get out of the truck. (And guys, I’m normally up for an outdoor adventure… but even this was too much for me.) Along with all the other people along for the ride. So my husband and his brother (because my husband thinks it’s a fun challenge to go into the forest in dangerous situations.) 10 minutes of waiting and his mom said that the next step was to call search and rescue. I get out of the truck for exactly two minutes to see how deep the snow is. Sure enough… thigh high. 15 more minutes of waiting and out of the forrest comes two Christmas trees. And his mom is really really relieved we didn’t have to call search and rescue.
And so a forrest tree adorns my porch. It might even be better than some we’ve had in the past. It’s at least a 6 out of 10.
Movies were watched. Cards were played. People came and went and came and went again.
It was the organized chaos I’m used to.
