I’m sure many of you have fabulous, festive holidays in which the fun never stops.
We have holidays that create memories (i.e. the holiday doesn’t seem like fun until sufficient time has passed and the day becomes a memory). Like the holiday we were all seated at the table and waiting for the turkey. Mother stubbed her toe on the way to the table from the kitchen. The bird shot off the platter and hit Daddy in the head. (From that point telling Daddy to “Get Stuffed” took on a whole new meaning.)
I’ve lost count of the Christmas trees viciously attacked by kitties strong enough to break the fishing line tying the tree to the wall. Hey, after the first decorated-tree-as-etch-a-sketch-performance-art, you always tie the tree to a wall. We use rope now and pretend we have a rodeo theme.
We had green stuffing one year. The top came off the sage. So, I guess that counts as a festive Thanksgiving! If you discount the weeping and wailing. We love my mother’s stuffing and seeing green…well, it was a good thing Christmas is a do-over for Thanksgiving.
Really, don’t you think Thanksgiving was invented so we could do a dry run for the big Christmas meal? Although, because of our experience with memories, we don’t get too bent out of shape. The family grades on a curve and appreciates that we do both these big meals at our house. So, here’s my schedule:
11-1 Find the vacuum.
11-2 Curse the vacuum and take to repair shop.
11-3 Begin negotiation of the date(s) and time(s) for the “official events” while coordinating approximately 12 family units on hubby’s and my sides of the family.
11-8 Give up and say we’ll have our Thanksgiving for my family on a day that is not Thanksgiving. (We don’t actually care.) All are welcome.
11-9 Pick up the vacuum and curse dog hair. Take vacuum back to repair shop. Try not to take offense at the laughter.
11-12 Answer phone call from repair shop. Buy new vacuum.
11-13 Leaf through shiny, pretty magazines at all the pretty tablescapes, snort derisively at people who must not live with cats if they put turkey feathers in their centerpieces, and then get out the construction paper turkey the kid made in third grade and tape it to the front door.
11-14 Attempt to get a final count for our dinner. Plus or minus 5.
11-15 Consider rehiring a maid.
11-20 Decide that only the “public” spaces and the guest bathroom need to be really clean. Vacuum.
11-21 Decide to find some activities for the little ones.
11-22 Make sure my son got the memo about our plans. Vacuum. (I have a German Shepherd-Husky mix, which is the generally accepted champion of shedding.)
11-23 Buy a turkey and more peanut oil. Fight usually reasonable people over the last 2 cans of fried onion rings for the Gawdawful green bean casserole that only 2 people eat but who cry if we don’t make it.
11-24 Recover from shopping. But vacuum.
11-25 Knit sweater from dog hair that has accumulated since vacuuming.
11-27 Go to two Thanksgivings that aren’t “ours.” Begin fast-thawing the turkey.
11-28 Go shopping and buy a new turkey platter. (I broke ours 2 weeks ago. Seriously. This one is $ 149.99 at Williams-Sonoma. Ha!)
11-29 Clean until the last possible moment and then wait for catastrophe that will become a fond memory.
11-30 Wonder why we need a maid when the house looks this clean.
Do you have a maid? Do you want a maid? Do you clean daily? Weekly? Or just when you can’t find your way to the kitchen?