Holiday with a bunch of turkeys (aka Thanksgiving)

There's only one good thing about not being able to cook: no one expects me to on holidays. Even if I wanted to, they won't let me; putting me in the kitchen on a food-related holiday is akin to putting me in the Super Bowl after half a season playing Pop Warner football. So instead, I am routinely assigned to bring the rolls, the pies and/or the wine.

To be honest, I don't really mind. My mom and all my brothers are excellent cooks; I'd rather just enjoy the fruits of their labor and wash all the dishes afterwards.

This year, Thanksgiving was in San Jose, at my brother Tim's house. My parents stayed home and slummed it with us this year (they ran off to Hawaii last year). We missed the San Diego part of the family, but still managed to pack in a whole lot of fun in San Jose.

The San Jose crowd are an early-to-bed, early-to-rise crowd. Like the Army, they get more done in the morning than I get done the rest of the day. By the time I woke up on Thanksgiving, Tim and the kids were leaving for a turkey trot, and Kim was outside raking up leaves. Apparently, this was not going to be an idle holiday.

It was also Kim's birthday, and she wanted to ride bikes to celebrate. We rode over to the turkey trot, but got there just as the party was ending, and everyone was going home. Which was sad, but even more sad was the fact they were out of coffee. But it didn't slow us down; we just biked over to Starbuck's, where we ran into half the town of Willow Glen (seriously, Tim and Kim know everyone who lives there!).

My parents had arrived by the time we got home. After a round of hugs and hellos, everyone settled into the living room. Kim's dad Bill and his wife Carol were driving in from Redding, so we snacked and watched a Star Wars marathon while we waited for them. Mark and my nephew Nic were wild men, rotating between pillow fights in Nic's room and rousing soccer matches in the front yard.

Finally, it was turkey time! Chef Tim prepared a fantastic bird this year, and Mark got to carve it up.

Platters of food went around the table, and everyone served themselves. It wasn't until the dishes stopped passing that I noticed an absence.

"Where are the vegetables?" I asked Tim, staring down at my carb-laden plate.

"There are none!" Tim proclaimed loudly. He refused to make any, saying it's just filler. I thought of my brother Smed, who refused to let any vegetable (even a single green bean!) onto his plate, because he wanted to fill up only on meat and potatoes. I just smiled; seemed my family was all together, if only in spirit.

The meal was fabulous. Kim got a little bit ripped off, sharing her birthday with Thanksgiving, but Tim tried his best to make it a dual celebration.

After pie, the adults sat around the table chatting. The boys migrated outside again, and Hannah and I watched TV for a bit. She was cracking me up; she's a dangerous mix of both Dinsdale and Vincent, which makes for a lethally funny sense of humor. She got in a few really good cracks at me, and I just laughed, upholding the family motto of "It's okay to be mean, as long as it's funny." I also resorted to calling her Snarky Girl the rest of the weekend.

No one felt like fighting the shopping crowds the next day--the closest we got was mocking the Wal-mart campers on the news Thanksgiving night. Instead, we all sat around watching the movie "Big" and then travelled to nearby Campbell to visit an urban chicken store. Kim's all into getting some chickens, and I just cracked up--seems I'm visiting a lot of chicken and feed stores on my vacations these days! ;-)

There was also a toy store next door. Hannah and the boys ran off to that, and we eventually followed. It was a pretty cool store, and I especially liked the Santa and elf cut-out in front.

Our next excursion was to the panaderia for Mexican sweet bread. Along the way, we passed giant inflatable crab--I'm serious, this thing must've been at least one story high and probably twenty feet long.

"Holy crab!" Mark yelled from the back seat. I said, "Mark..." in a warning tone, and then burst into laughter. Kim reminded me of the funny motto, and I agreed, just felt like I had to give a little show of parental guidance.

Kim took us for another bike ride that afternoon. It was a nice mixture of mellow laziness, leftover food and exercise--the perfect day!

We made lots of fun of that giant crab, even talking it all up to my dad. But the funny thing is. later on that evening, we were stumped on where to go for dinner, and ended up going...you guessed it...to the seafood restaurant with the giant crab! (My family is so easy to sway.)

The food was okay, but the tools on the table were better. Mark immediately tied on a lobster bib, and then he and Nic started pounding each other with wooden mallets. It was funny for about two seconds, until they started pounding on the table.

It was just nice to hang with the family, and to be somewhere different. And even though it wasn't all that far away, it felt like it. We've had an extended summer in our part of California, and while that's pretty nice, I was really missing autumn. Turns out I found it in San Jose--all the trees were golden, red and purple. So it really felt like a fall Thanksgiving, with crisp air and gorgeous fall colors all around.

All in all, it was a wonderful couple of days.

Turkey Day 2011

My parents have had just about enough family time, thankyouverymuch, so this year, they opted for a Hawaiian cruise over Thanksgiving with their offspring. Can't say I blame them, though, and I'm sure they are having a blast on the open seas.

But that didn't mean Thanksgiving, or even Thanksgiving in San Diego, was canceled. Mark and I headed to the family compound, where I gave thanks for having a brother who likes to cook.

When my nieces and nephew greeted us, I was shocked to see the oldest, Nathalie, was the same height as me! It's only been a month or two since I've seen her, but she sure sprouted up during that time. And boy, did she love being as tall as me. She stood next to me every chance she got, and asked me 537 times how tall I was. I kept changing it up just to confuse her.

My family likes to eat, so they don't even put up the pretense of letting me cook during the holidays. I came bearing pies instead. My brother Scott took them from me, and told us that we were having a late lunch--my sis-in-law Mary predicted it would be served some time between 2 and 6 p.m. Since even that four-hour window of time was not a guarantee, Scott encouraged us to fill up on appetizers.

I helped Mary a bit in the kitchen, until Scott came in and announced we'd start drinking at noon. I glanced at the clock; it was 12:02.

"Break out the wine!" he said, so we did.

We also busted out the appetizers. My favorite was the bacon-wrapped dates, which I encouraged Mark to try. My niece Gabi also encouraged him, but for a whole different reason.

"Yeah, have a date--it's probably the only date you'll ever have!" she cackled. I'm pretty sure Mark smacked her after that, but I was laughing too hard to reprimand him.

Scott and Mary's friends and their kids also joined us. Their Natalie was not just taller than me--she literally towered above me! And Ethan was unlucky enough to bear a passing resemblance to Mark, so every time I saw a brown-haired boy darting down the hall, I yelled out "Did you test your blood sugar?" or "Did you bolus?" Nine times out of 10, Ethan turned to look at me, confused as to why I kept verbally assaulting him. Mark, however, loved it.

Chris and Hilary also brought their dogs. Moments after they arrived, Bailey, the chocolate lab, jumped into the pool, where she spent the rest of the day. Mary raced past me, calling out, "Oh my God, don't tell your mom about this!" Mom may have been out to sea, but she was there in spirit all weekend, mostly whenever someone was about to do something stupid, and the rest of the family cried out, "Grandma will KILL you if she finds out!" We really do love my Mom, but she keeps us in line even when she's thousands of miles away.

After a brief nap (which may or may not have been wine-induced--I'll never tell), we sat down to an amazing dinner. Kudos to Scott and Mary for such a fabulous feast!

Even better than the food was the company. Our good friend Sasha was in town, and stopped by to visit. We spent the evening laughing until my face literally hurt. At one point, everyone was in the kitchen, talking loudly (yes, you, Scott!) and hurling questions toward poor Sasha, who became completely overwhelmed. I thought she might actually run away, but she's been part of the family long enough, and she overcame it.

With Thanksgiving down, we still had three more days o'fun to fill.We took the kids to Sea World. They'd already been on Tuesday, but it was a gorgeous day so we went again. We took our picture inside a giant snow globe, saw the dolphin show, and watched a real reindeer tear around his pen. We bailed when it looked like he might actually escape or harm the Sea World trainer; I'm not sure my boss would believe me if I called in sick after being mauled by a reindeer.

We joined Sasha's family that evening for Thai food. I was on turkey overload, so I ordered pad Thai.  

"What number spicy, from one to 10?" the waitress asked.

"I dunno, 5?" I answered. I figured halfway up the scale was safe.

But my friend Ann panicked. "I only get 4 1/2!" she warned, so I scaled it down to a 4. Which still burned my mouth--the family cracked up at me and my wussy taste buds, especially when Mark popped in a mouthful with no problem. (Rotten kid can eat fire and not even blink.) But even a burnt tongue was a small price to pay for dinner with some of my favorite peeps.

On Saturday, we hung out with one of my college roommates. I hadn't seen Andrea for a few years, and in that time, she got married, and we both had kids. I was excited to meet her new family, and to introduce Mark (who is not the kid in the picture! That's my nephew--Mark took the photo).

Her family was in town, and did what most San Diego visitors do--they went to Sea World (the other 50% go to the zoo; we have passes there too, so we're covered). Mark and I met up with them there, and brought my nephew Grant for his third trip that week.

The Sea World parking lot is huge, and out of all the parking spaces, I picked the one right next to Andrea! What are the chances?!? We spent a fun day with Andrea and her fam, with Grant leading the way to each exhibit because, he reminded us, he knew where every place was.

"Oh yeah? Where's Rancho Cucamonga?" I asked, so he clarified he knew where everything in Sea World was.

We returned home for our next engagement, dinner at the neighbor's house. I was happy because Scott the neighbor, is a chef, and his food did not disappoint. I was also excited to meet Michelle's famous Uncle Bim, who my parents love. He had great stories, and an even better Alabama accent. The conversation slowed down after dinner, though, as Uncle Bim fell asleep at the table. He woke briefly to mention something about his time zone being three hours ahead, but then he fell back asleep. The funniest thing was that it did not slow down dinner in the least--we all kept laughing, drinking wine, and talking. My brother Scott was telling stories, loudly, as he's famous for doing, and it didn't bother Uncle Bim in the least--he actually started snoring.

"He always falls asleep," Scott said later. "He usually blames it on the jet lag."

Sunday was our last day together, which bummed out Mark (he loves his cousins). Mary announced we were going out for breakfast, and I saw the kids move faster than I had all weekend (they really love brekky!). We had a sing-along in the car, switching up the words to all the songs, and singing about how we were sexy and we knew it ("I work out!"). If that mini-van was fueled by giggles, we could've driven on forever.

By the time we packed up our car and headed out, I was exhausted from laughing so much all weekend. I had such a blast with the kids--they're at that age now where they really get it, and they've all got such diverse, hilarious senses of humor, I could just spend my days listening to them and cracking up.

So even though my parents were gone, we still managed to have a pretty awesome Thanksgiving. And I'm still giving thanks now, days later, for being lucky enough to be surrounded by the thing I hold most dear to my heart--my family and friends.

Man, I can't wait until Christmas!

I am grateful for...

Thanksgiving is a time for families to come together, share food, drinks, and memories. It is a day of holding hands in prayer, giving thanks, embracing family, and eating rich food together around a warm, inviting table. Everyone dresses nicely, smiles and uses their best manners.

That is the Hallmark version of it, anyway. In my reality, Thanksgiving is a little different. A little more...chaotic.

It's filled with mobs of children running willy-nilly through the house, parents yelling at them to go play outside, children grousing that they are bored outside, competing chefs who want to take control of the kitchen and make dinner THEIR way, and grumbly family members who, egos bruised, retire to the TV room in protest, vowing not to help at all. It's a good time.

I managed to come out unscathed, although other family members were not so lucky. No one lets me cook, so I volunteered my services wherever else they were needed--making dip, washing glasses, setting the table. I fed the hungry child-mob snacks when they were hungry, shepherding them outside and out of Chef Grandma's way. I kept their hungry dogs at bay, and their littlest cousin under control, so they all walked away from the snack sated, but not full.

Our meal was fabulous, one of the best my mom has ever served! My nephew Johnny requested gravy on his turkey, then cried because he immediately regretted that decision. He refused to eat anything until all foods containing or touching the offensive gravy were removed from his plate.



My niece Nathalie (aka Nathalie the Carnivore) scarfed down at least three or four servings of turkey. I don't know where she puts it, but every time I turned around, she was handing me her plate for more.

My nephew Grant couldn't stop praising the meal, proclaiming it was the best chicken he's ever had. We laughed at that, and reminded him it was actually turkey, so he amended his statement to, "This turkey is CRAZY GOOD!" He was hilarious.

My other niece, Gabi, spends her days dreaming of hot chicken wings. So she was thrilled when my mom presented her with the ultimate hot wing--a turkey wing! She was in heaven with her wing and bottle of Red Hot.



Mark enjoyed his meal, too. He announced the yams were his favorite, although he was more partial to the melted marshmallows on top. He also changed his vote to pie once dessert was served, tossing aside any pretense of including a vegetable as his favorite dish.



The adults were pretty happy, too. We savored the food, laughed at the kids, and joked with each other until my mom made us stop. (Apparently, our idea of appropriate differs vastly from hers.)

Gabi then regaled us with Thanksgiving Day trivia. We learned that one woman petitioned multiple U.S. Presidents for more than 30 years to make Thanksgiving a national holiday. I was impressed, and asked what her name was, but Gabi answered, "I don't know." So Nathalie named her Brenda, and we thanked Brenda in absentia.



We'd used my mom's best dishes, which she deemed okay for the children to eat from, but not to clear from the table. The kids were thrilled to be relieved of their duty, and ran off to play.

I was in the biggest tryptophan stupor a while later, fading into a turkey coma, when I yawned. It was cold and dark outside, and I was ready for bed. Until...I glanced at the clock and saw that it was 5:48. Not even 6 o'clock and I was ready to turn in. Now THAT'S the sign of a good meal!

It turned out to be a pretty good day for everyone but my poor, exhausted mom, who worked so hard. She ended her night with a pie plate in hand, marching off to her room, announcing that she hates the holidays.

Which doesn't bode well for Christmas...looks like we might have pizza for dinner this year if she has anything to say about it...

Things to be thankful for

I love every holiday, but one of my faves is Thanksgiving. I love the smell of good food cooking, a warm fire crackling, the comfort of my family together, the sounds of us all laughing wildly, and the clomping/screaming/joyful noises of the kids running through the house en masse. No matter the craziness outside, for a few days at least, everything is right in the world.

This year we traipsed up the mountain to celebrate in Big Bear. My brother Scott and his wife Mary have a cabin up there, and we filled it to the rafters. Scott, Mary and their kids were already there when we arrived, as were my parents and Mary's mom, Fran. My other brother Smed, his wife Brandy and little Johnny arrived later in the afternoon.

It was gorgeous outside--hot and sunny. The kids immediately took to the street on their scooters. I don't think I saw them the rest of that first day.

We spent Thanksgiving Day cooking, gorging on appetizers, and herding the kids outdoors. After spending most of the day inside, my mom and I decided we needed to get out a bit. We packed up Nathalie and almost-three-year-old Johnny and drove to the lake for a walk. The sun was shining, but the semi-frozen lake reminded us the nights were still chilly. The ice provided endless amusement, as Nathalie tossed rocks onto it, creating air bubbles.

Johnny loved throwing rocks into the lake. He could scarcely believe we let him; he's usually reprimanded for throwing things. He was not as happy about the 15 ducks that flocked toward us, thinking our rocks were a free meal coming their way. They continually squawked and rushed at him, which slowed down the rock tossing and aggravated him.

"Stupid dammit ducks!" he cried angrily (and appropriately) at them. I turned to my Mom to see if she'd heard what I heard. "No bad words, Johnny," she called out, confirming that she had. I could barely control myself. If that had been Mark, he'd have been in big trouble, but for some reason, when other people's little kid's cuss, I find it beyond amusing. (Johnny's phrase became the phrase of the weekend--in fact, I've found it appropriately describes just about anything bugging me!)

The ducks didn't bother me much, but three vocal, aggresive Canada geese certainly did. One of them, as tall as Johnny, climbed out of the water and waddled toward us, honking angrily. I grabbed Johnny, told Nathalie to run, and backed outta there as fast as I could. We retreated to the boardwalk, where my mom watched the same goose approach another family who really was feeding the ducks (with food, not rocks). She saw the goose snap at a woman, biting her on the hand.

"Stupid dammit goose!" I whispered to my mom, who giggled.

We returned to the house to find my brothers had finished their turkey cook-off. Smed fried his and Scott smoked his--both tasted amazing. The table was loaded with wonderful food, but the family protested when Mary set down a steaming dish of yams.

"They need more marshmallows!" said my father, he of the notorious sweet-tooth.

"I mixed them in the yams this year," Mary explained. And with that, they promptly disappeared. I think Nathalie, Mark and my dad had three heaping servings each. I've never seen a vegetable eaten so fast by my family before!



By Friday, we were good and relaxed. We'd spent three days eating, watching movies and just relaxing. Smed and Brandy decided to go home; Johnny wasn't sleeping well, and when Johnny doesn't sleep, nobody sleeps.

My mom kept worrying about snow. Scott and I dismissed her concerns, mostly because it was sunny and warm outside (and because we didn't have a TV). We didn't know she'd been watching the weather reports on the news, which were predicting a 30% chance of snow on Saturday, the day we all planned to leave.

"It'll just be a light dusting," Scott said. Boy, did those words come back to bite him!

When my parents arrived at the cabin Saturday morning, they were freaked out. Though they'd only driven a couple miles, it was through powdery snow and zero visibility.

It was very obvious we weren't going home that day. No matter to me; the only plans we had were to pick mistletoe with the Cub Scouts at a nearby camp. I knew the Scouts were leaving soon, so I called to warn them of the snow and improbability of reaching the camp. They decided to soldier on, but as our street was covered in fresh powder and nary a snow plow in sight, I told them we wouldn't make it.

In case you're wondering what four inches of fresh snow looks like, here ya go:





Except for my worried mom, we were all giddy and smiling as the thick snow fell. Though the house now had 10 occupants and no departure time in the near future, we didn't mind. It was kind of fun to be snowed in.

The kids couldn't wait to get into the snow. They suited up, grabbed some sleds, and ran into the street. Unfortunately, the new snow was powdery and four inches deep, and instead of skidding off, they merely sunk down into it.

"Go, sled!" Gabi yelled at her useless ride. She yelled at it again, then finally climbed out of the hole she was sitting in and ran off.

Gabi, Nat and Grant had their fill pretty quickly, and retreated back to the warm house. Mark, however, couldn't get enough of it. He'd been outside for a long time, and I started to worry a bit. I searched the yard, where I found him hunched down on all fours, face planted squarely in the snow.

"I'm eating the snow!" he said happily. An icy white beard covered his face, but couldn't hide his smile.

We hoped to clear out by Sunday, but the news greeting us that morning was grim. Another four inches of snow had fallen, and the first four had iced over during the night. ("Stupid dammit snow!" I told my mom.)

We listened intently to the radio, and heard that chains (which none of us had) were now required to get down the mountain. The news only got worse as the day went on; a car crash had closed off the front way down, and the back way was now crowded. The usually one-hour trip was now taking 4-5 hours, and was slippery with ice. We'd be staying another night.

I helped Scott plow the driveway for the second time in as many days. It was harder going this time, as the surface had frozen over. Where we'd shovelled snow the day before, we were now shoveling snow and ice and trying not to fall. I even cleared off the entire front deck, bulldozing the snow onto the ground below.

"Don't worry about that stuff," Scott told me. "It'll all melt off anyway."

But I just shrugged. "Not like there's anything else to do," I told him. I'd finished reading five magazines and most of my book. After sitting around the house for four days, it felt good to be something active. And then I realized, Oh my god, I'm so bored, I'm actually shovelling snow! It killed a good hour, though.

As dinner time neared, there was a collective groan at the mere thought of one more meal of leftovers. Mary called the local pizza joint, and was thrilled to hear they were delivering. All I have to say is thank God for small mercies and snow tires!

Monday morning arrived, and with it, a sense of urgency. It was fun being snowed in a day or two, but we were getting cabin fever. The kids were thrilled to miss school, but the adults were getting a little gritchy. I busied myself by taking photos of the ever-growing icicles that grew jaggedly along the roof line. They were so cool!

Finally, around 11 a.m., we got some good news. The roads were open, and chains were no longer required. Still seemed a little hard to believe, as the street out front was still covered in snow. But the temperature slowly passed 35, then 45 degrees, and the ice turned to slush.

We packed up the cars, and headed out. After a quick lunch, our caravan headed down the mountain. When we finally hit sea level, we were amazed to see sunny skies and 70 degree weather. It was like travelling to a distant land in another season.

So our Thanksgiving holiday turned out to be a little longer and a little colder than we initially expected. We got a few added days at the cabin, but we were warm and dry, and had plenty of food stocked up. We had a lot to be thankful for, and though my mom swears she is done with mountains and snow forever, it was a really great holiday.

I love a holiday weekend

Hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving!

Ours was a blast. My brother Scott smoked a turkey, which was wonderful, and made a red wine and mushroom gravy from scratch. To say that was amazing is an understatement--just ask Scott, whose first words to me were, "This gravy is amazing--you'll never replicate it. NEVER!"

I tried to answer that I wouldn't even try, but he cut me short with another "NEVER!"

Our turkey day was everything it should be--lots of family, lots of kids running around all crazy, great food. Mari made a wonderful cornbread stuffing, her mom brought her signature cheeseball, and Kathleen made an awesome corn soufflé. My mom made all the other traditional carb dishes--mashed potatoes, yams, rolls, etc. My contribution was providing the house, and washing the dishes. (Just for the record--no one lets me cook. Honestly--they don't even put up the pretense of assigning me a dish. They just ask if I've ordered the pies yet!)

Friday we caravaned up to Scott and Mari's cabin. We stopped off for lunch, and Mark promptly left his sweatshirt there--a sweatshirt which Scott had just given him back, along with a full bag of other belongings Mark had left at their house.

There was no traffic along the curvy road, so we felt like we had the whole mountain to ourselves. But it was cold once we got up there. We unloaded the cars (I brought a cooler full of leftovers) while Scott started up a big fire. He also fired up the giant projection screen, so we spent the afternoon by the fire, watching an 8-foot-tall version of Planet of the Apes. That was very fun, since Mark, my two nieces and my nephew, piped in a question at five second intervals.

"Where are the apes?" Gabi asked right after the opening credits.

"Is that a monkey?" Grant asked 30 seconds later. I told him there were no monkeys, just apes. ("It's called Planet of the Apes, not Planet of the Monkeys.")

"Apes are monkeys," Nathalie said, and I told her no, they're different. "Monkeys are the same as apes," Grant reiterated, and again, I said, "No, they're different--they're both simians, but they aren't the same."

"What's wrong with that lady?" Mark asked one minute later.

"They're apes, not monkeys; there are no apes yet; the glass on her chamber broke and let the air out. She's dead," Scott answered in one fell swoop.

But that didn't slow down the children's questions at all. They went into a full discussion of why the lady died. ("The gas broke," Grant explained. "No, the glass broke!" Nathalie corrected.) Then the scary music started and freaked them all out.

"Is this an appropriate movie?" Nathalie asked, while Mark proclaimed, "I'm not afraid of monkeys!"

"I see a monkey!" Grant yelled, pointing at the screen.

I just looked at Scott, who sighed. "They do the same thing at the movie theater!" he told me. "They never stop talking." Ten minutes and a hundred questions later, he flipped on Star Wars instead. The questions stopped immediately, since the kids have all seen that movie about a hundred times.

Saturday we went on a "hike," which consisted of a nice path around a little lake bay. The kids ran off the path immediately, grabbing up every rock they saw, and promptly tossing it into the lake. Within seconds, they had chased away every duck in the lake.

Grant stood on top of a sewage pipe jutting out of the sand, and said, "Look at this big shell!" Mari and I just laughed; it did kind of look like a shell.

Mari reminded the kids to stay away from the water, since we didn't have any extra clothes for them. "Remember how you lost your shoe last time, Grant?" she asked. "We had to wait an hour and a half for it to float across the bay." He nodded somberly. ("You waited for it?" I asked, and she said, "They were his favorite shoes!")

The only thing more tempting than throwing rocks in the lake was climbing the rocks in the lake. Giant rocks, in fact. We scurried across the inlet to climb some monstrous sized boulders. Mark, Nathalie and Gabi flung themselves up and down the rocks, while I tried not to envision them tumbling down the cliffs into the lake, or into the busy street. They had a great time; I had a better time when we finally climbed down.

We left the mountain late in the afternoon. Mark and I met up for dinner and a movie with Edra and Kathleen. We saw Bolt, which was kinda sad, but very funny.

And now, we still have one day of vacation left! We haven't done much with it yet, except clean the house, but later this afternoon, we're going to help the Cub Scouts pack mistletoe, which we'll sell next week as a fundraiser. And tonight we're going to a Christmas tree lighting in the park.

Thanksgiving was great; and now, as we spend our afternoon with the mistletoe, it just reminds me that the next season (Christmas--my favorite) is upon us. So let the yuletide begin!