THANKSGIVING...
A COMEDY OF ERRORS...
For reasons too complicated to go into here, I bailed out of Thanksgiving at my mother's house, and celebrated with my supposed brothers by orientation here in the Southland. Not actually a great decision, but that's no one's fault but mine.
Anyway, I agreed to bake one of the turkeys for this gay, if not entirely cheerful, event. Not a great decision, there, either. And because there were so many cooks involved, I didn't treat the undertaking with all the gravity that it might have warranted: one person tried Susan Stamberg's volcano turkey, which is cooked at pizza temperature for a very short time, another brought one which sat wrapped in a towel, as it had apparently already spent several hours, to "rearrange its juices." I had had the brilliant idea of carving my turkey ahead of time and bringing it on a platter with the stuffing and the onions, and letting it sit in a nice warm place -- I had been promised oven space in the kitchen adjoining the rented hall...
Problem #1: I bought a frozen turkey. A LARGE frozen turkey. This is a colloquial American phrase with the approximate meaning of "buying a pig in a poke." You have no idea what you are getting...
Problem #2: I did not read the instructions on thawing the monster, and found to my surprise that the two days I had allowed for it to thaw in the fridge fell short of the required five. Oops. So I started my Thanksgiving day by hacking away at the mostly frozen carcass to get the giblets out and the damn thing ready to roast...
Problem #3: And I started out the day in a panic that this enormous bird would never be cooked on time. As it turned out, I had no need to worry: the little onboard thermometer popped out about an hour ahead of my "schedule," and I was left with the curious problem of having a turkey cooked too soon...
Problem #4: It turned out not to be "minimally processed." In fact I would guess that it had been MAXimally processed. It had so much salt in it that there was more juice in the bottom of the roasting pan than there was in the turkey. The advantage of this very clumsy arrangement was, of course, that there was LOTS of gravy; the disadvantage was that the remaining turkey was rather... dry.
Problem #5: I realized, as I rushed to get the carving, layering, and arrangement of vegetables done, that I had no aluminum foil in the house. No problem -- I had to drive by several shopping plazas on the way to the dinner. And, to the obvious detriment of the poor people working there, the supermarkets were all open for business. So, I just chucked the turkey platter into a shallow box in the back of the car, prayed for no sudden traffic motion that would send turkey or juices flying in all directions, and took off for the dinner.
Problem #6: I failed to stop at any of the supermarkets I whizzed past looking for the hall, which I had never been to before. It was easy to find, but by the time I had found a parking spot and lugged all the food [turkey, gravy, veg] into the hall, I was still foil-less in Gaza. Oh, what the hell, I thought. I'll rustle up some foil here... There wasn't any. Hmmmmm. Well, someone will know where it is.. So I tossed the platter blithely into the oven and headed out onto the dance floor.
Problem #7: I started in to ask someone who knew the hall where to look for foil. I did. But I somehow got side-tracked, and mingled, and had a drink or two and forgot all about the foil, which led to...
Problem #8: When the turkey DID come out for dinner, it had been baked completely dry. The vegetables, especially the onions and roast garlic, looked as if they had been blasted, and not by phasers set on "stun," either. The meat on the top was so dry and salty that it was like eating turkey flavored potato chips. Or maybe deep-fried turkey chips. I know, because I ate it. I figured somebody had to.
I made my peace with the fact that I had to spend the evening listening to the rhapsodies over the other birds, and the telling and re-telling of the cooking processes which had produced them. That was OK. I mean, I had left my semi-OK bird to the mercies of an unknown oven because I got distracted by the call for the second glass of wine that the first glass never fails to set off. So I deserved whatever social come-uppance I got. Really.
I also, as the evening wore on, made my peace with the fact that this group will probably never invite me to cook anything again; but then, who cares what the assembled multitude thinks of my culinary skills, really? I just packed up what was left of my pride -- about as much as was left of my sobriety, at that point -- and settled into eating the super crispy turkey on my plate. I kind of liked it. I like things that are crispy and salty -- I have even spent a lot of money in various Asian restaurants to get people to produce duck that bore a similar resemblance to the actual meat as which it had started out [usually called something like "crispy twice-fried duck" or "unbelievably crispy over-fried duck for nitwits." In any case, not a low-calorie treat.]
That was Thanksgiving. The following day I made the trek up to my mother's, where my children were to meet me -- one of them very briefly because he had discovered better things to
do, which caused a certain amount of inner turmoil on this end, one of them not at all, because he was too far away to get there, and one of them, well, one of them who just couldn't say "no." My eldest niece -- of the household that worships the human intellect and never worries about human feelings -- told me to "just shut up" during a discussion after dinner, which prompted me to say that I personally thought that she had taken one step too far for a teen-ager addressing an adult, however f#$%ed up he might be. At lunch the following day her entire family viewed me with barely concealed hostility, and I was taken to task for suggesting that her younger brother back off the smart-aleck remarks. Where did I pick up this ability to mishandle any available social situation??? Will it improve once I get my Gay Membership Card and learn all the secret handshakes? Or am I just DOOMED?
My daughter had arranged to spend a day with me before heading off to college, and while it's true we spent a fair amount of that day in the car, at least it was time together. We packed up after lunch and headed off for Points South.
Certain subjects hung over us like a cloud, and after dinner on Saturday that cloud ended in a spectactular cloundburst. Before, during, and after it, we managed to talk about the mess I have made of our lives, and how everyone is doing -- i.e., not too well, really -- and how we just have to "soldier on." Having wrung the tears out of our systems, we decided to go see Will Ferrell in "Stranger Than Fiction." It was a good tonic, and the not-too-subtle lessons about life and what makes it worth living hit all the right buttons.
It all made for a rather harrowing day or two. And it was really no treat coming back to the house from the airport. I'd grown used to being in it on my own -- and not seeing how it was descending into a nightmare of bachelor dishevelment -- but the brief appearance of someone who loved me within the four walls left an almost unbearable echo behind. Not to mention that it made me see it as it really was...
Well, I have survived my first Big Holiday without my family.
I know other people have bigger problems, and divorces that are nasty, brutish, and long. I know that my wife is being preternaturally pleasant, all things considered. I know that I am really very well off, in the scheme of things.
I have: a place to live, the money to pay for it and heat it, a job that keeps me busy and focused on other things beside my own life, food to eat and things [even beer!] to drink, people who care about me, even if they are pissed off at me at the moment, people who are putting up with my inability to do the right thing in social settings because, in spite of all my advantages, I am just a little strung out, especially when it's a day I'm used to spending with my family and now I'm not...
I have all these things, and I am mightily grateful for them.
You may have heard how I feel about my country. [My boss reported seeing a bumper sticker emblazoned with a huge American flag and the slogan: "I love my country! but I think it's time we started seeing other people..." I like that one.] And I'm grateful to live here and be able to grouse about it. No one is trying to knock me down or lock me up because I'm gay or because I don't trim my sails to the prevailing wind in the system; I am, we all are, free.
And I am especially grateful for all the people, far and near, who have supported me through the last six to nine months. It's been a roller-coaster ride. And much as I love the real thing, I really don't enjoy the emotional kind much at all.
But I know that this, too, is the direct result of what I CHOSE. So it's just me and my inability to continue my life at the cost of silence: everything else follows from that...
Happy Thanksgiving.
In the end, mine was; I hope yours was, too.
Remember all those for whom it wasn't.
Anyway, I agreed to bake one of the turkeys for this gay, if not entirely cheerful, event. Not a great decision, there, either. And because there were so many cooks involved, I didn't treat the undertaking with all the gravity that it might have warranted: one person tried Susan Stamberg's volcano turkey, which is cooked at pizza temperature for a very short time, another brought one which sat wrapped in a towel, as it had apparently already spent several hours, to "rearrange its juices." I had had the brilliant idea of carving my turkey ahead of time and bringing it on a platter with the stuffing and the onions, and letting it sit in a nice warm place -- I had been promised oven space in the kitchen adjoining the rented hall...Problem #1: I bought a frozen turkey. A LARGE frozen turkey. This is a colloquial American phrase with the approximate meaning of "buying a pig in a poke." You have no idea what you are getting...
Problem #2: I did not read the instructions on thawing the monster, and found to my surprise that the two days I had allowed for it to thaw in the fridge fell short of the required five. Oops. So I started my Thanksgiving day by hacking away at the mostly frozen carcass to get the giblets out and the damn thing ready to roast...
Problem #3: And I started out the day in a panic that this enormous bird would never be cooked on time. As it turned out, I had no need to worry: the little onboard thermometer popped out about an hour ahead of my "schedule," and I was left with the curious problem of having a turkey cooked too soon...Problem #4: It turned out not to be "minimally processed." In fact I would guess that it had been MAXimally processed. It had so much salt in it that there was more juice in the bottom of the roasting pan than there was in the turkey. The advantage of this very clumsy arrangement was, of course, that there was LOTS of gravy; the disadvantage was that the remaining turkey was rather... dry.
Problem #5: I realized, as I rushed to get the carving, layering, and arrangement of vegetables done, that I had no aluminum foil in the house. No problem -- I had to drive by several shopping plazas on the way to the dinner. And, to the obvious detriment of the poor people working there, the supermarkets were all open for business. So, I just chucked the turkey platter into a shallow box in the back of the car, prayed for no sudden traffic motion that would send turkey or juices flying in all directions, and took off for the dinner.
Problem #6: I failed to stop at any of the supermarkets I whizzed past looking for the hall, which I had never been to before. It was easy to find, but by the time I had found a parking spot and lugged all the food [turkey, gravy, veg] into the hall, I was still foil-less in Gaza. Oh, what the hell, I thought. I'll rustle up some foil here... There wasn't any. Hmmmmm. Well, someone will know where it is.. So I tossed the platter blithely into the oven and headed out onto the dance floor.
Problem #7: I started in to ask someone who knew the hall where to look for foil. I did. But I somehow got side-tracked, and mingled, and had a drink or two and forgot all about the foil, which led to...
Problem #8: When the turkey DID come out for dinner, it had been baked completely dry. The vegetables, especially the onions and roast garlic, looked as if they had been blasted, and not by phasers set on "stun," either. The meat on the top was so dry and salty that it was like eating turkey flavored potato chips. Or maybe deep-fried turkey chips. I know, because I ate it. I figured somebody had to.I made my peace with the fact that I had to spend the evening listening to the rhapsodies over the other birds, and the telling and re-telling of the cooking processes which had produced them. That was OK. I mean, I had left my semi-OK bird to the mercies of an unknown oven because I got distracted by the call for the second glass of wine that the first glass never fails to set off. So I deserved whatever social come-uppance I got. Really.
I also, as the evening wore on, made my peace with the fact that this group will probably never invite me to cook anything again; but then, who cares what the assembled multitude thinks of my culinary skills, really? I just packed up what was left of my pride -- about as much as was left of my sobriety, at that point -- and settled into eating the super crispy turkey on my plate. I kind of liked it. I like things that are crispy and salty -- I have even spent a lot of money in various Asian restaurants to get people to produce duck that bore a similar resemblance to the actual meat as which it had started out [usually called something like "crispy twice-fried duck" or "unbelievably crispy over-fried duck for nitwits." In any case, not a low-calorie treat.]
That was Thanksgiving. The following day I made the trek up to my mother's, where my children were to meet me -- one of them very briefly because he had discovered better things to
do, which caused a certain amount of inner turmoil on this end, one of them not at all, because he was too far away to get there, and one of them, well, one of them who just couldn't say "no." My eldest niece -- of the household that worships the human intellect and never worries about human feelings -- told me to "just shut up" during a discussion after dinner, which prompted me to say that I personally thought that she had taken one step too far for a teen-ager addressing an adult, however f#$%ed up he might be. At lunch the following day her entire family viewed me with barely concealed hostility, and I was taken to task for suggesting that her younger brother back off the smart-aleck remarks. Where did I pick up this ability to mishandle any available social situation??? Will it improve once I get my Gay Membership Card and learn all the secret handshakes? Or am I just DOOMED?My daughter had arranged to spend a day with me before heading off to college, and while it's true we spent a fair amount of that day in the car, at least it was time together. We packed up after lunch and headed off for Points South.
Certain subjects hung over us like a cloud, and after dinner on Saturday that cloud ended in a spectactular cloundburst. Before, during, and after it, we managed to talk about the mess I have made of our lives, and how everyone is doing -- i.e., not too well, really -- and how we just have to "soldier on." Having wrung the tears out of our systems, we decided to go see Will Ferrell in "Stranger Than Fiction." It was a good tonic, and the not-too-subtle lessons about life and what makes it worth living hit all the right buttons.It all made for a rather harrowing day or two. And it was really no treat coming back to the house from the airport. I'd grown used to being in it on my own -- and not seeing how it was descending into a nightmare of bachelor dishevelment -- but the brief appearance of someone who loved me within the four walls left an almost unbearable echo behind. Not to mention that it made me see it as it really was...
Well, I have survived my first Big Holiday without my family.
I know other people have bigger problems, and divorces that are nasty, brutish, and long. I know that my wife is being preternaturally pleasant, all things considered. I know that I am really very well off, in the scheme of things.
I have: a place to live, the money to pay for it and heat it, a job that keeps me busy and focused on other things beside my own life, food to eat and things [even beer!] to drink, people who care about me, even if they are pissed off at me at the moment, people who are putting up with my inability to do the right thing in social settings because, in spite of all my advantages, I am just a little strung out, especially when it's a day I'm used to spending with my family and now I'm not...
I have all these things, and I am mightily grateful for them.
You may have heard how I feel about my country. [My boss reported seeing a bumper sticker emblazoned with a huge American flag and the slogan: "I love my country! but I think it's time we started seeing other people..." I like that one.] And I'm grateful to live here and be able to grouse about it. No one is trying to knock me down or lock me up because I'm gay or because I don't trim my sails to the prevailing wind in the system; I am, we all are, free.
And I am especially grateful for all the people, far and near, who have supported me through the last six to nine months. It's been a roller-coaster ride. And much as I love the real thing, I really don't enjoy the emotional kind much at all.But I know that this, too, is the direct result of what I CHOSE. So it's just me and my inability to continue my life at the cost of silence: everything else follows from that...
Happy Thanksgiving.
In the end, mine was; I hope yours was, too.
Remember all those for whom it wasn't.
Your turkey tinfoil dilemna is funny, sorry it didn't turn out as well as planned. (The social aspects of it all are what really count in the end?) I think it's good you can see the good of it all too and that you know you have friends and family who despite arguments and differences still love you. There is a lot that we DO have that we can be greatful for even if everything doesn't turn out perfectly.
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