So, how was your Thanksgiving? I presume if you’re reading this, you lived through it, despite the presence of your extended family.
I lured my teenagers into the kitchen Thursday morning with the false promise of In-N-Out burgers, and then forced them to remain and help me peel sweet potatoes and chop veggies for my crudite platter.
They were unfamiliar with the concept of how to use a kitchen, but I showed them where the knives, peelers and cutting board were located, and explained that people use them to reduce vegetables to a manageable size.
Of course, Cheetah Boy couldn’t grasp the idea of a “carrot stick,” so he just chopped all the carrots into chunks, but they were still edible.
While they were chopping away, I did a little early Black Friday shopping online, thanks to that marvelous invention called a “credit card,” where you can buy things and never have to pay for them.
We’d been invited to go over to a friend’s house for Thanksgiving dinner, which was delightful, not only because I got to see people who live far away, in the wilds of south Orange County, but also because it meant I didn’t have to roast a turkey or, more importantly, clean up the house.
Some of you may know that for the last few months I’ve been eating vegan (or plant-based, for those of you who don’t want to imagine me wearing Birkenstocks and patchouli oil).
Vegans eat only plants, no animal products, so no eggs, meat, milk and so forth. Those who go crazy also forego leather and animal skins.
In my case, this new way of eating is primarily for health reasons, and I feel great. I’ve cut my diabetes meds down from 10 pills a day to two, and hope to throw them all away soon. As the months have progressed, I find that meat has become less and less appealing, and sweet potatoes look positively yummy, even bare and unadorned.
However, I knew I’d be eating turkey on Thanksgiving, and looked forward to it, too.
I belong to this vegan Facebook page where people were bemoaning being forced to endure the presence of “rotting meat carcasses” at family dinners on the last Thursday in November, but all I could think was “yum.”
Bring on that rotting meat. I guess I haven’t completely embraced this whole vegan thing yet. Don’t be looking for my vegan leather clothing line any time soon.
Once or twice a year, my kids put on clean clothes that look respectable and go out for a special occasion, and Thanksgiving is one of them. Curly Girl even left her flip-flops at home, which was a major event.
Cheetah Boy was wearing a shirt he bought on his recent bus tour of Italy that, he told me, cost $60. Of my money. It’s now too small for him. Of course. So happy to know he’s now embraced Italian fashion. I’m sure that won’t cost me much.
Curly Girl was wearing a summer dress that’s way too short, but I didn’t complain because at least she was wearing a dress. She had a differing opinion, but it didn’t count.
Have you ever noticed that people who are texting or posting on social media write “IMHO” on things? It stands for “in my humble opinion.”
That’s annoying because, of course it’s your opinion. That’s redundant. And I hate things that are redundant. Especially when they repeat themselves. Over and over. Because they already said that. My children accuse me of doing this, usually involving some aspect of housework that was never completed.
The teens survived dinner with the mostly older crowd, due to the intervention of their iPhones, and even made polite conversation.
Curly Girl told me on the way over that one of her friends had been left behind by his family, and literally locked out, asking if he could walk over and eat with us.
So he ended up sharing our dinner, and I had about a million unanswered questions about why his family ditched him and even locked him out, but I assume it’s because he didn’t show up when he was supposed to and they were over it.
Been there, my friends. And, if he wasn’t at fault, I’m sorry. There are a lot of turds passing for parents these days.
One of the dinner guests later pointed out that we probably had the only Thanksgiving with no photos taken, and no football on the TV. Oops. We just kind of forgot. Must have been the wine.
I was in a turkey-induced coma when we came home, and the teens ditched me in favor of their friends. This was fine with me, because I just wanted to sit in a stupor.
This morning, the scale says I gained a pound, but I was expecting worse, so time to go work out.
And, if you’re planning to bring me over See’s Candies for Christmas, maybe you should just eat it before you come.
Contact the writer: mfisher@scng.com or 714-796-7994
