The time has finally come.
To host Thanksgiving.
Gulp. I am scared.
I’m guessing my guests might be, too, although I must admit my cooking skills have come a long way from when I shoved a super-sized Costco chicken potpie into the oven, still in its protective plastic shell.
I mean, that was a good two months ago and I realized what I’d done wrong in about 5 minutes, as soon as that burning-tire smell wafted through the house but before the melting plastic had actually carcinogized the whole meal, so I think I’ll do OK with cooking Fiat-sized raw poultry.
In fact, I think I’m just gonna deep-fry that sucker because nothing hides sins like a crispy-crunchy coating.
My Thanksgiving-host avoidance skills are pretty impressive, considering I’ve been an adult for decades and have been able to get away with hopscotching between my mom’s and mother-in-law’s feasts and contributing little more than a bowl of cranberry applesauce. But, this year, the gig is up. I guess some people might consider it payback. Family is descending upon Tucson, and more specifically, our house, as part of the weeklong, 50th wedding anniversary festivities for my lovely in-laws. Mazel tov, Mike and Helen.
Does anybody else hear “National Lampoon’s Family Vacation” theme music, or is it just me?
Kidding. I’m actually looking forward to having all the far-flung relatives together again, even if the numbers are a bit dizzying. The head count: 26 people and that includes vegans AND Texans.
This is most certainly not the time to pull out the fancy-dancy, handwash-only china and silverware that was on our wedding-gift registry and that we oohed and aahhed over only to shove back into boxes deep in the coat closet, never to be seen again.
No, we may well deliver the final blow to Mother Earth with practically-as-good-as Wedgwood plasticware, purchased in bulk.
Everyone will get spread out across the patio because the weather’s always lovely in November and isn’t fresh air supposed to diffuse tension? Well, anyway, our neighbors all keep to themselves so if any fights do happen to break out, I am pretty confident the police will not be summoned and we can deal with things in our own way — ooh, which reminds me, I should check to see how sharp those plastic knives really are.
I’m kidding — even though I did say there are Texans in the family. And vegans.
The truth is, I’ve always wanted to experience one of those big, Norman Rockwell-ian Thanksgivings because our turkey days have always been small, limited to immediate family and maybe a few friends because everyone’s so spread out. I’m a little sad that my kids last saw their second cousins, three-to-five-times removed, when they were all barely out of diapers, so they have no clue who they are. Reconnecting will be a good thing. Fighting over available bathrooms won’t be.
Yes, things will be a bit nutty — scratch that, no nuts, food allergies — but I’m sure dinner will turn out OK enough. Bottom line, even though everyone always complains when they get food poisoning, they’re all still secretly relieved at the opportunity to drop a few pounds, especially around the holidays.
