The Conservative Cave
Current Events => The DUmpster => Topic started by: Tess Anderson on November 24, 2010, 03:28:42 PM
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MineralMan claims to have the drill down:
link (http://www.democraticunderground.com/discuss/duboard.php?az=view_all&address=389x9622346)
He's quite the wind bag:
MineralMan (1000+ posts) Wed Nov-24-10 10:09 AM
Original message
Thanksgiving: It Begins Today
Thanksgiving is tomorrow, but it's already started in this house. We did our shopping on Monday morning to avoid the crowds, and I have everything I need for the dinner. This afternoon, my wife's sister and her husband are flying (yes, flying) in from Cape Coral, FL, to MSP, where my wife and I will pick them up at the airport. It's going to be snowing by then, to the great discomfiture of the arrivees. They never seem to arrive dressed appropriately for the cold weather, even though both lived for years here in the northern climes. Dinner tonight is pizza, delivered from somewhere by some kid who's trying to earn money.
As usual, Thanksgiving dinner falls on my shoulders. My wife has claimed for 19 years that she doesn't know how to cook. I sort of doubt that, but agreeably. My mother-in-law, who is 82, cooked her last Thanksgiving dinner the year we moved out to Minnesota to help her and her late husband out. My wife's other sister is somewhat disabled, and can't do it. So it's my job.
It's complicated. We'll be eating at MIL's house, which has a kitchen with almost zero counter space and a sloooooow electric range. So, at the appropriate time, I'll go over there and stick the turkey in her oven, which works fine, drop my wife off to hobnob with her sister and mom, and come home to my own kitchen. My wife's only job is to baste the turkey from time to time. As the day goes on, I'll be preparing the rest of the meal in a leisurely way, prepping the side dishes, all of which are designed to cook in the 30 minutes or so the turkey needs to rest. Even the mashed potatoes get completed in my own kitchen, then transferred into a large crockpot on low to stay warm.
My MIL probably has all the stuff I'd need to serve the meal, but I can't ever seem to find it. So, I put everything into a tote bag and a box. Platter, serving bowls, serving utensils, and the like go in there. Even my own meat thermometer, since my MIL's dates back to 1950, and is very hard to read, given the years of moisture under its glass.
I show up at MIL's house about an hour before the feeding frenzy, heavily laden with the rest of the dinner and the rest of the stuff. I plug in the crockpot, check the turkey with MY meat thermometer and plan. By then, my wife's other sister and her idiot Freeper husband will have arrived, and her husband will be holding forth in his very loud, whiny voice about whatever he recently heard on satellite radio. Eyes will roll, and someone will tell him to switch to his "inside voice." Fortunately, he doesn't drink, so that's something I'm thankful for on Thanksgiving.
The women in the family will be sitting around the table, catching up and doing little else. My non-freeper BIL will be watching whatever football game is on, with the volume high enough to drown out the idiot BIL's droning. I'll be in the kitchen.
When the turkey reaches its ideal temperature, I'll drag it out of the oven and put it on the table in the kitchen on a couple of trivets - after clearing off enough room for it in the piles of accumulated miscellany that has hidden the top of the kitchen table since last Thanksgiving. In the oven go the dressing, green bean casserole, and one other side dish. They all heat up nicely in 30 minutes or so. I announce that it's 30 minutes until dinner, and my wife comes in and gets the dishes, etc. and sets the table. We're eight at the table this year. I take my glass of wine outside and have a smoke, while that goes on.
Did I mention that nobody comes into the kitchen while I'm in there? I have sharp things in my hands and a sharp rebuke for those who interfere with my kitchen duties. There's nothing in there for anyone to do, anyhow, and I'm busy. The next step is to make the gravy. I suck out some drippings, add some flour, and the chopped giblets (neck meat and gizzard only, thank you), add chicken stock to get the right consistency and whisk it all up. We're big gravy eaters, so this all goes in an enormous 3 cup measuring cup. The croissants go in the microwave for about 30 seconds and get to the dining room table. I transfer the bird to it's big platter and the timer goes off. I haul the whole meal into the dining room, one dish at a time, and take my place at the head of the table, since I'm now the eldest guy in the family.
Grace is said, and I carve, while whoever is nearest each side dish serves people's plates. We add the turkey to the plates, white and dark according to the well-known preferences of everyone. I ceremoniously present the turkey's heart to the Florida sister, and we fall to our dining. For the first time all day, silence fills the room, as everyone devours the feast. Seconds and thirds are the order of the day for most everyone. Me? I eat a little of everything. I'm tired, to be frank, and not as hungry, apparently, as the rest.
Eventually, the feeding ends. My idiot BIL will announce this with a loud belch that seems to emerge from somewhere within his expansive midsection, as he does each year. Since I cooked this meal, I remain seated, while my wife and her sister clear the table and harass the 13-year old nephew into helping. The dishwasher is loaded, the big stuff is rinsed off and put aside. I take those home later and wash them in my own kitchen.
Thanksgiving dinner is complete. We all sit around and do what families do, afterwards. Stories are told. The idiot BIL blusters some more. Pie is served and devoured. We are replete.
It's Thanksgiving. I'm thankful that we're still all here. I'm thankful that my meal turned out well. I'm thankful that my idiot BIL did not go any further than he did with his ranting. I'm thankful that we have homes and that the family appears to be doing about as well as they can. I wish I could see my own parents, who are 86 now, but I'll see them at Christmas, where this whole thing will repeat itself, with a different cast of characters. Fortunately, I won't be doing the cooking at Christmas.
I'm thankful for Thanksgiving. I hope everyone on DU who reads this has a good one. I know that some are troubled this year, with one thing or another, but wish everyone a good Thanksgiving - the best Thanksgiving you can have, whatever your situation.
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That's a lot more information about the RockBoy family dining and travel arrangements than anyone but a burglar could possibly want.
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When MM decided to take his glass of wine and go out for a smoke, that sounded good to me, so off I go without reading the rest of the windbag's pointless story.
Have a fantastic Thanksgiving, everybody, and I'll see some of you back on Friday!!
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I have to be honest, I couldn't read this whole thing.
I'm sorry your wife refuses to cook because she "doesn't know how"...
My mom never taught me how to cook, but I can still cook. Cooking is quite easy to learn. Tell your wife to get off her ass and get into the kitchen. Remember to say "please" to show you're a gentleman though.
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Oh stop whining! Today I worked for 4 hours this morning, before I went to work I put the turkey breast in the oven (making a whole turkey in the roaster tomorrow) I cut the potatoes, when I came home from work I took the turkey out of the oven, put the potatoes on then mashed them, put the green bean casserole together, cooked 1 of the h'ordeuvers, put the other 2 cold h'ordeuvers together, cleaned the whole house even though it was kind of clean, put all the food away, had a sink full of dishes that I washed, finished cleaning up the kitchen, then took a half hour nap and heading back out to work for 3 hours!
ETA: while doing all that hubby put in a new shower rod and wiped down the tub and with a cute smirk said he was tired!
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I'm having a traditional Thanksgiving....the women do all the cooking and bring me my plate..... :-)
OK, so I have to take her out to dinner Friday night, beats the hell out of what DUmmie has to go thru.
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How can a post about being thankful be so damn depressing?
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How can a post about being thankful be so damn depressing?
It comes from a miserable DUmmie.
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It comes from a miserable DUmmie.
Beat me to it!
Exactly!
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I wonder what happens when all doesn't according to plan?
:ohnoes:
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I wonder what happens when all doesn't according to plan?
:ohnoes:
He goes on a crying jag........... :rotf:
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He goes on a crying jag........... :rotf:
... and posts all about it at the DUmp! :rotf:
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Hey DUmmies.
(http://strangecosmos.com/images/content/13675.JPG)
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It sounds like MM would make some butt plugger a fine wife.
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Posts like his there needs to be a "Cliffs Notes for DUmmies" book...
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... and posts all about it at the DUmp! :rotf:
But it will be a huge bouncy.