More family holiday highlights Tuesday, November 28, 2006, 7:21 PM  Stuff that happened or was said over the holiday that’s easier for me to recount randomly. ~*~*~*~ “If you point your butt at me and fart again, there’s going to be trouble,” Rhonda said to D, her youngest. D is at the age where farts and fart sounds are a knee-slapper. And besides, what would Thanksgiving be without a good fart or two? “You’ve changed,” Grandma said to me. Then she sat staring at me in silence, which gave me a complex. Was this change for the better? Do I want to know? “He’s nuts. He’ll hide in the ditch and when a car comes, he’ll jump out at it. He drives me crazy,” Rhonda said of her wild-eyed Doberman-Dalmatian mix dog. “You two aren’t even on speaking terms?!” I asked my sister upon hearing that she and her boyfriend (the other host) were fighting. Whereupon she told me I could make anyone laugh, so I should focus my whatever-it-is on him. “Harley! Get away from there!” “No, I don’t want to do it, I’ve never carved a turkey in my life,” the host confessed. I told him that by the second turkey (because we had two) he’d be a pro. “Harley! Shut up!” “Mom said the turkeys aren’t done on the bottom,” Rhonda said to me. I took a swig of my wine, stalked out to the dining room table where the turkeys were, then shoved the lifters under the biggest turkey to peer at the underside of the bird. Oogie just can’t stand not being in control. (It was perfect, by the way.) “Harley! Stop breathing on me!” This is all I can remember at the moment. It’s late, I’ve worked all day and I have cinnamon chicken to eatith.  
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Thanksgiving: The Day Before Actually, my sister had the idea that we’d spend Thanksgiving over the river and through the woods at grandma’s house, but then ended up having to work Thanksgiving Day because that’s what being the new kid at a restaurant means for a waitress. She suffered no serious injuries or brain damage from having to work on a holiday, though, plus she made some great tips. This year Rhonda and I did all of the cooking at her house, something that drove Oogie, our mother, even more insane than she is already because she’s a control freak. At first, we were tolerant of Oogie’s well-meant nose picking. I mean nose poking. “I’ll do the onion, you do the celery,” she’d said as I’d poised the knife over my victim. Never mind that my sister had the only available counter space and I the only available table space. The floor was wide open, though. At this point, I should mention Harley’s presence, a Doberman-Dalmation-What’chamahcallit mix who was polite about crotch sniffing, but not about snorting up anything that fell on the floor. I figured Oogie was still miffed about all of the expired condiments I’d found and thrown out of her refrigerator the night before. There’d been four containers of mustard, one dating all the way back to 1996. And mayonnaise, pickles, jams, salad dressing and, the worst travesty of all, two rolls of Pillsbury Dough chocolate chip cookies. So I gave way to Oogie and the red onion, moving to the sink before I realized she’d appropriated my cutting board and knife. “Where’s the baister?” Oogie wanted to know. I stuck my head in one of the three sacks just outside of the pantry. “It was in the sack with the poultry rub and the spices,” Oogie cried (apparently because of the onion). “I have a baister,” my sister huffed. “And plenty of mayonnaise.” Now we had two baisters and enough mayo for a dozen half-dozen deviled eggs. We also had two turkeys, two different stuffing recipes, green bean casserole, potatoes, corn, Hawaiian bread with spinach dip, cheese, crackers, smoked sausage, three pies and a bundt cake. And a partridge in a pear tree. Oogie was ejected when she asked when we thought we’d be doing the potatoes. Keeping her out of the kitchen turned out to be as much of a challenge as keeping Harley the dog out, but once we popped On Golden Pond into the DVD player, Oogie and grandma kept the 32” TV company. Oogie twitched through every minute, but she’d been banned and the queen of the household showed no signs of early reprieve.
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Thanksgiving ~*~*~*~ Unhinged has been going through one of those periods known as writer’s block lately. Sources show that she’s begun a number of blog entries (and two short stories), and has lived to tell the tale about a few more new experiences. However, the girl has the attention span of a drunken gnat, so you do the math. The photos finally arrived of Halloween night. She’d like to make a hoagie stacker with potato wedges and share the photograph of that instead, since her chin always seems to ruin the effect of her quirky kind of beauty on film. Last week when she was talking to her mother, Unhinged realized for the first time that she loved her job in accounts payable. The job is all about numbers, accuracy, attention-to-detail and deadlines, something that normally would have had her gagging down a can of lima beans with nothing to drink, before she’d ever feel at home doing such a job. But yeah, she loves her job and most of the people with whom she works. It’s a major, happy realization for her, and has helped calm some of her long-term worries. And it’s this that she’s most thankful for this season. Happy Thanksgiving.
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Time Warp And just yesterday I was a twenty-three-year-old being carded in the bar section of TGI Fridays.
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Smell that? On Halloween, I was a prom queen wannabe. I wore a gorgeous yellow bridesmaid dress and my pink Mary Janes. Photos to come (hint, hint). It was a wild, crazy kind of night and there were a lot of pretty guys wearing stilettos, wigs and more makeup than I was. A lot of them looked better than I did, which makes me feel more than a bit miffed. Our world is so unfair. Neo from The Matrix is working at a hamburger joint on Santa Monica. I creamed my panties when he glanced my way, almost sucking a piece of romaine into my lung. (Trinity is dead, remember?) Anyway, it’s those glasses, that unsmiling, full-lipped mouth, and the long black coat that swirls around his ankles that gets me. I love a sexy tormented man. I love Keanu Reeves. And Anakin Skywalker. Michael Samuel. Mr. Darcy. The Beast from Beauty and the Beast. Angel. And Wesley. My place smells wonderful right now. I dusted today so I smell lemon Pledge, fresh flowers, and spiced pumpkin candles. It’s amazing how these scents, coupled with a clean apartment, can make me feel so good. Makes me want to blow my nose again just so I can really experience the stink of it all.
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