Surviving Thanksgiving

Social media is ripe with posts about being thankful and lists of what people are thankful for. That’s what I love about the holidays. People are thankful, talk about their blessings, and are charitable. We need to act like it’s the holidays all the time. Not that anyone asked me for my opinion, but there she is.

I spent the whole week before Thanksgiving preparing to host a Thanksgiving meal at my house for the first time ever. For the first time ever in my 31 years, I cooked a full sized turkey breast and ham. I got no negative reviews on those, at least in ear shot. I’m calling that a win. Just because I don’t get those that often.

I handled the stress fairly well I think. Tony intended to make the dressing and help with the other cooking/setting up. However, he decided to move a refrigerator on his own and so afterward, he could not move himself. He was down during the duration of the holiday, but after having a minor freak out, I persevered. I also made dressing for the first time. Tony has always done it for us. Let me just say that six years experience working in a restaurant came in handy. At the end of the day, I made a ham, turkey, two pans of dressing, a green bean casserole, hand rolled dumplings, rotel dip, homemade french onion dip, butter beans, two pies, peach cobbler, fudge, and rolls. A friend asked me at the end of it all if I would ever attempt it again. I surprised us both when I said yes.

Overall, I enjoyed the cooking. Cooking things from scratch always reminds me of being in the kitchen and learning at the elbows of both my grandmothers and great grandmother. Although I was stressed out and tired, I enjoyed the cooking. I may have sent my mother in law to her room a time or two and banished her from the kitchen, but hey, memories, right?

The Thanksgiving feast at my house was on Black Friday. I wouldn’t dare ever leave my house on that day of all days. I ventured out once on that day with a friend. That day I witnessed Wal-Mart become full jungle mayhem the likes of which I’d only ever seen on the Discovery Channel. People played tug-of-war with marked down pillows and discounted towels. They ran through the aisles screaming prices at one another to alert a comrade of a deal.

My poor little antisocial heart beat erratically in my chest as watched droves of people run rampant through the aisles. Finally, after an hour in check out, we made it to the safety of the car. I heaved a huge sigh of relief and swore an oath that never again would I participate in such.

Maybe I’m being a bit dramatic, but I was overstimulated and sleep deprived. Those things can wreak havoc on a body.

All in all, I have to say that I’m a Thanksgiving survivor. I came. I conquered. I wore myself out. I gave reverence to the women I’ve known that have handled that meal of all meals and more. My grandmothers included. 

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “Surviving Thanksgiving”

  1. I LOVE cooking huge meals for the ones I love. I think it’s a dying art among our generation, so I’m glad to see you following in the footsteps of the fantastic examples we had in these areas. I think it’s very cool too how husbands have really come to participate in this meal.

    Hahaha – if you were in our local Wal-Mart, I’ll bet none of this story was exaggerated at all!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Tony and I both enjoy cooking. He was so disappointed that he couldn’t help more. I’ve always loved being in the kitchen and trying new things but also mastering the art of my teachers. With fast food being so readily available, we eat less and less home cooked meals. That’s pretty depressing. We’ve got to keep home cooking alive!
    It was our Wal-Mart. Pure insanity was what it was. Haha

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s