Go Left, Young Man
Hello World,
Happy December! All over the country, the turkey trot has come and gone, along with its storied folklore, immutable traditions and paraphernalia. Not to mention, those left-over turkey sandwiches, left-over turkey soup, left-over turkey hash and plain old left-over left-overs. I hope there was plenty of gobble, gobble in your long holiday weekend, and not too much wobble, wobble afterwards. Anyone who watched the revered Thanksgiving Day Parade on television knows what kind of weather we had in this area, with drenching rain all day and gusty winds. I was surprised that they even let the balloons into the parade in those conditions, but the wranglers kept them tightly tethered and low to the ground to avoid any mishaps. After all, if they break one of those, they'd be stuck with weeks worth of left-over vinyl sandwiches, and I'm sure nobody wants that.
Thanksgiving around here was anything but the same old song and dance, and no one could say they were tired of the trite and shopworn trappings of yesteryear, because there weren't any. In fact, no one knew from one moment to the next what was going to happen, and if nothing else, at least no one could claim to be bored. It started out a few weeks ago where any number of people in our small clan found that they had a variety of other plans for the holiday, and we were looking at a very tiny and subdued get-together as a result. And then, oddly enough, as it got closer and closer to the actual turkey day, one by one their plans changed, so that by the time Thursday rolled around, the whole crowd showed up on Mom's doorstep, and looking every inch like wayfaring Pilgrims, or at least, every other inch. It was even more fun for being unexpected, and the weather could not put a damper on our spirits.
In the original "tiny-and-subdued" scenario, the plan was to order food from the diner and send a hardy Pilgrim out to pick it up and bring it back for the others. When we arrived with our snacks of cheese, crackers, fruit and apple cider, that had changed to the Pilgrims actually going to the diner to eat. A bit later, some of the Pilgrims announced that since they couldn't stay long, there was no point in eating at all, and we could just enjoy some home-made pies for dessert and call it a day. That's how things ended up, and while I must say that the pies scaled new heights of scrumptiousness, especially with the addition of Cool Whip cheering them on, having a Thanksgiving with no food was certainly a wholly new and unorthodox approach to a holiday that is traditionally a bastion of culinary excess. And don't even get me started about left-overs!
There were also some late or early birthday presents for certain Pilgrims, notably Bill, because at the time of his birthday earlier in the month, some of us were too pooped to party. So Thanksgiving stood in as sort of a substitute birthday, which is kind of like a substitute teacher in school, except without all of the eraser fights and spit-balls. After that, we headed home and although it was still raining, the trip was blissfully uneventful and no traffic besides.
In terms of weather, Friday was the day that everyone hoped for Thanksgiving, being gloriously clear, dry and unseasonably warm. It began with presents, which is always my favorite kind of day, because a holiday without presents just doesn't cut the mustard in my book, or any other mixed metaphors for that matter. (You know the honeymoon is over when you get a step-ladder as a present, but around here, that falls into the category of "be careful what you wish for.") Then we packed up and hit the highway for the drive north, where we were off to stay with friends over the long weekend. We timed it so that we could enjoy the decadent treats of Cinnabon for brunch at the first rest stop we came to, and even though we checked our handy Thruway Toll Plaza Directory to find which ones had Cinnabons, we were still disappointed when we arrived to find the entire toll plaza system being revamped, and not a Cinnabon in sight. We carried on without them, but it was not the same. But our friends were happy to see us, and even their devil cat, who is one of Satan's minions, was not as upset as usual at being ousted from the guest room for our visit.
Unlike the Martin Luther King, Jr., weekend, when we also stay with our friends upstate, the Thanksgiving weekend has no specific plans, and it's nice to have some unstructured spare time to just go where the day takes you. We found our friends had left up their Halloween decorations for us to enjoy, with a train set running around a spooky village complete with skeletons, ghosts, witches and trick-or-treaters of all descriptions, under a Ficus decked out in orange and purple lights for the occasion. We got back on the road to join our other friends even further north, making sure not to miss the delectable fried ravioli at the local diner, so we could be amazed by their new big screen HDTV. We found they had already put up their Christmas decorations, with the tree and all the trimmings, plus a new train set running around the village full of skaters, carolers and snowmen at every turn. So if you're counting, we somehow managed to pass through 3 holiday zones in 2 days, and I don't mind saying, the whiplash is killing me.
With no specific plans or time-tables to adhere to, we ended up doing a lot of window-shopping in a variety of retail establishments in the area, such as Target, Wal*Mart, Dollar General, Panera's Bakery, Hewitt's Garden Centers and even Goodwill. We also made a trip to Peddler's Wagon, a thrift shop we've been to on other occasions, but which had been so re-arranged from our previous visits, that we found it unrecognizable. It didn't deter us from buying stuff (nothing seems to deter us from that, somehow) which should make the President's economic advisers happy, if nothing else. After lunch at another local diner, and even more fried ravioli, we finally had to pack up and get going, with only our memories and bundles full of booty to console us.
Anyone can tell you that Sunday night of a long weekend is no time to be on the highway, as everyone comes back from wherever they were, and this was no different. The traffic was so bad that we were afraid we might run out of gas just standing still, so we pulled into the first rest area that we came to, and found that we had to wait on line just to get gas. If this was a throwback to 1975, I have to say that we didn't care for it all that much, and that's putting it mildly. We decided that we had seen enough of the tail lights on the Thruway, and we crossed over the river at the first bridge that we came to, which brought us into the small and scenic town of Rhinebeck, where the holiday lights were all aglow in the town square and looking very festive. We stopped at Denny's for dinner, which is always a special treat, and thus refreshed, we were prepared to re-join the throngs of holiday travelers already on the roads. But for some unaccountable reason, the traffic was better at that point, and we soon arrived home without incident.
Because it gets dark so early now, it seemed much later than it really was, and after a long weekend of traipsing about hither and yon, and back again, about all we wanted to see in our futures was the inside of our eyelids, and that's it. On the plus side, one of our newest cats, RaggMopp, who is not used to being left alone, greeted our return with an enthusiasm that was as gratifying as it was unique among our feline residents. Monday morning found us trudging back to work, tired and broke, but happy nonetheless, as if we had just celebrated the most orthodox Thanksgiving since those halcyon days of Currier & Ives, bless their little lithograph hearts. So that was about how the weekend shaped up around here, and I hope that yours was a veritable cavalcade of food, folks and fun, if not necessarily in that order. Although I do have to warn everyone that if you're out there searching for a last longing taste of the holiday, don't bother to come looking for me, because all I have is some left-over Cool Whip.
Happy December! All over the country, the turkey trot has come and gone, along with its storied folklore, immutable traditions and paraphernalia. Not to mention, those left-over turkey sandwiches, left-over turkey soup, left-over turkey hash and plain old left-over left-overs. I hope there was plenty of gobble, gobble in your long holiday weekend, and not too much wobble, wobble afterwards. Anyone who watched the revered Thanksgiving Day Parade on television knows what kind of weather we had in this area, with drenching rain all day and gusty winds. I was surprised that they even let the balloons into the parade in those conditions, but the wranglers kept them tightly tethered and low to the ground to avoid any mishaps. After all, if they break one of those, they'd be stuck with weeks worth of left-over vinyl sandwiches, and I'm sure nobody wants that.
Thanksgiving around here was anything but the same old song and dance, and no one could say they were tired of the trite and shopworn trappings of yesteryear, because there weren't any. In fact, no one knew from one moment to the next what was going to happen, and if nothing else, at least no one could claim to be bored. It started out a few weeks ago where any number of people in our small clan found that they had a variety of other plans for the holiday, and we were looking at a very tiny and subdued get-together as a result. And then, oddly enough, as it got closer and closer to the actual turkey day, one by one their plans changed, so that by the time Thursday rolled around, the whole crowd showed up on Mom's doorstep, and looking every inch like wayfaring Pilgrims, or at least, every other inch. It was even more fun for being unexpected, and the weather could not put a damper on our spirits.
In the original "tiny-and-subdued" scenario, the plan was to order food from the diner and send a hardy Pilgrim out to pick it up and bring it back for the others. When we arrived with our snacks of cheese, crackers, fruit and apple cider, that had changed to the Pilgrims actually going to the diner to eat. A bit later, some of the Pilgrims announced that since they couldn't stay long, there was no point in eating at all, and we could just enjoy some home-made pies for dessert and call it a day. That's how things ended up, and while I must say that the pies scaled new heights of scrumptiousness, especially with the addition of Cool Whip cheering them on, having a Thanksgiving with no food was certainly a wholly new and unorthodox approach to a holiday that is traditionally a bastion of culinary excess. And don't even get me started about left-overs!
There were also some late or early birthday presents for certain Pilgrims, notably Bill, because at the time of his birthday earlier in the month, some of us were too pooped to party. So Thanksgiving stood in as sort of a substitute birthday, which is kind of like a substitute teacher in school, except without all of the eraser fights and spit-balls. After that, we headed home and although it was still raining, the trip was blissfully uneventful and no traffic besides.
In terms of weather, Friday was the day that everyone hoped for Thanksgiving, being gloriously clear, dry and unseasonably warm. It began with presents, which is always my favorite kind of day, because a holiday without presents just doesn't cut the mustard in my book, or any other mixed metaphors for that matter. (You know the honeymoon is over when you get a step-ladder as a present, but around here, that falls into the category of "be careful what you wish for.") Then we packed up and hit the highway for the drive north, where we were off to stay with friends over the long weekend. We timed it so that we could enjoy the decadent treats of Cinnabon for brunch at the first rest stop we came to, and even though we checked our handy Thruway Toll Plaza Directory to find which ones had Cinnabons, we were still disappointed when we arrived to find the entire toll plaza system being revamped, and not a Cinnabon in sight. We carried on without them, but it was not the same. But our friends were happy to see us, and even their devil cat, who is one of Satan's minions, was not as upset as usual at being ousted from the guest room for our visit.
Unlike the Martin Luther King, Jr., weekend, when we also stay with our friends upstate, the Thanksgiving weekend has no specific plans, and it's nice to have some unstructured spare time to just go where the day takes you. We found our friends had left up their Halloween decorations for us to enjoy, with a train set running around a spooky village complete with skeletons, ghosts, witches and trick-or-treaters of all descriptions, under a Ficus decked out in orange and purple lights for the occasion. We got back on the road to join our other friends even further north, making sure not to miss the delectable fried ravioli at the local diner, so we could be amazed by their new big screen HDTV. We found they had already put up their Christmas decorations, with the tree and all the trimmings, plus a new train set running around the village full of skaters, carolers and snowmen at every turn. So if you're counting, we somehow managed to pass through 3 holiday zones in 2 days, and I don't mind saying, the whiplash is killing me.
With no specific plans or time-tables to adhere to, we ended up doing a lot of window-shopping in a variety of retail establishments in the area, such as Target, Wal*Mart, Dollar General, Panera's Bakery, Hewitt's Garden Centers and even Goodwill. We also made a trip to Peddler's Wagon, a thrift shop we've been to on other occasions, but which had been so re-arranged from our previous visits, that we found it unrecognizable. It didn't deter us from buying stuff (nothing seems to deter us from that, somehow) which should make the President's economic advisers happy, if nothing else. After lunch at another local diner, and even more fried ravioli, we finally had to pack up and get going, with only our memories and bundles full of booty to console us.
Anyone can tell you that Sunday night of a long weekend is no time to be on the highway, as everyone comes back from wherever they were, and this was no different. The traffic was so bad that we were afraid we might run out of gas just standing still, so we pulled into the first rest area that we came to, and found that we had to wait on line just to get gas. If this was a throwback to 1975, I have to say that we didn't care for it all that much, and that's putting it mildly. We decided that we had seen enough of the tail lights on the Thruway, and we crossed over the river at the first bridge that we came to, which brought us into the small and scenic town of Rhinebeck, where the holiday lights were all aglow in the town square and looking very festive. We stopped at Denny's for dinner, which is always a special treat, and thus refreshed, we were prepared to re-join the throngs of holiday travelers already on the roads. But for some unaccountable reason, the traffic was better at that point, and we soon arrived home without incident.
Because it gets dark so early now, it seemed much later than it really was, and after a long weekend of traipsing about hither and yon, and back again, about all we wanted to see in our futures was the inside of our eyelids, and that's it. On the plus side, one of our newest cats, RaggMopp, who is not used to being left alone, greeted our return with an enthusiasm that was as gratifying as it was unique among our feline residents. Monday morning found us trudging back to work, tired and broke, but happy nonetheless, as if we had just celebrated the most orthodox Thanksgiving since those halcyon days of Currier & Ives, bless their little lithograph hearts. So that was about how the weekend shaped up around here, and I hope that yours was a veritable cavalcade of food, folks and fun, if not necessarily in that order. Although I do have to warn everyone that if you're out there searching for a last longing taste of the holiday, don't bother to come looking for me, because all I have is some left-over Cool Whip.
posted by El Tango Fandango @ 8:36 PM
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