Posts Tagged ‘Thanksgiving’

Thanksgiving merriment


2010
11.27

Art Every Day Month continues even though I would rather be a slug today and recover from eating too much.  Not piggy-too-much, but more than usual.  I could make stuffing during the year and then not eat so much on Thanksgiving, but.  Here’s a little photo journal through parts of our Thanksgiving weekend.  Wednesday has been covered already -the adventure we don’t want to repeat. Yesterday the family arrived – at least part.  Kim and fam were in Colorado with Karen and fam, but between Jen, Matt and kids, and Anne, Kent, Cristina and Benjamin, there were 11 of us at Kamala Kabin – our place in Alta Sierra.  They all had a long trudge through the snow also.  This year is wicked so far – how early is this snow? The Mountain Parade had to be canceled.  Not usually this cold and snowy this soon.  We’ll see if that augers for a cold winter.

First, though, we had some celebrating to do!

Confession Time

This year’s dinner was provided largely by Trader Joe’s.  I bought their stuffed turkey breasts,  gravy, fresh garlic mashed potatoes, yams with pecans and other goodies.  I bought the huge bag of rolls from Costco because if we don’t have those, my grandkids will never show up again.  Dinner was delicious – as good as I would have made, or better even.  And we maintained our tradition of having party crackers and wearing our crowns during dinner.

We’ve been wearing crowns for as long as I can remember – and at least since Sarah was in a high chair (she’s now 15 1/2).

Although the kids have graduated to the “adult” table, we had to reinstate the “kids” table at the cabin.

We had many spirited games of nerts – or is it nertz – and I lost big.  I figured if I couldn’t win, why not lose with flair?  I also went down spectacularly in a game I cannot remember the name of but that’s no matter because I’ve christened it “The Pretty Game.”

Some of the men relaxed.

I insisted we have a group shot – no matter how good or bad anyone thought they looked, didn’t matter.  We were taking a picture.  I did not lug that tripod through the snow for nothing.  Plus, I had to amaze everyone with my remote.  Sarah took control of that and took so many pictures that we were laughing raucously.

We were a small but happy group and really did enjoy our Thanksgiving in the mountains.  Tomorrow I’ll post the “outdoor” part of the weekend – sledding and skiing.  Until them, I’m going to will away the effects of the stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, pumpkin pie and all the rest.

A Thanksgiving adventure: Over the river and through ghostly woods (don’t try this at home)


2010
11.25

Well, I don’t need another experience like yesterday’s.  Oh, no no no no no.  Mark and I headed up the hill to our cabin in Alta Sierra for Thanksgiving.  Today we have family coming but we needed a head start.  We got halfway up the hill to Glennville and stopped at Hassano’s to eat.  Doesn’t look like much but the food is top notch.  The first thing we noticed was it was COLD.  A different kind of cold than we’ve felt there before – it’s somewhere around 3,500 feet.  The waitress told us snowflakes had just been floating down.

Then – up to the cabin at 6,200 feet.  We immediately encountered the sign that said chains required in 10 miles.  And then we were in ghostly woods.

We were not in fog.  Oh no, not the thick tule fog we get in Bakersfield.  We were in clouds and it felt so still and quiet, so untouchable and even mystical.

I didn’t ask Mark to stop for photos but once or twice since it was slow-going, and even though we were the only car on the road, it was snowy and slick.

Finally, we stopped at a pull-off by Slick Rock Road One for the…you guessed it, chains.

As you read on to the meat of the adventure, keep in mind this lovely tire with chain (almost) perfectly applied.  And while Mark did this, I scoped out the surroundings.  I found a perfect tree.  Would that we could take it, snow and all, for a Christmas tree.

I noticed how much snow there had been by what had been plowed to the side.

I looked over at Slick Rock One cabin and admired the pattern on the roof.

After the snowfall, the trees gave up more of their cover, heading towards naked for winter.  But across the street, other trees were still putting up a fight, holding on to those fall leaves.

My eyes landed on leaves outlined by ice, which may be the most magical image of all.  Ice storms look like fairy castles but they can be deadly.

Back across the street, the clouds were closing in.

The road had gathered its cloak closer, as if to shut out the cars.  Maybe we should have listened.

The real adventure begins

None of this was of any consequence when compared to the real adventure.  We headed down Old State Road, which had been plowed.  Caltrans had done a good job on Highway 155.  But the road to our house was not plowed.  And I wish I had pictures to show you, but you’ll have to take my word because I was too busy shoveling snow to take photos.

Should we go up our road?  We’d driven through snow like that before – we had snow tires, 4-wheel drive and chains.  Going up the S-curve.  Made the first turn.  Didn’t make the second turn- ended up stuck.  Whoa.  What to do?  Mark maneuvered any way he could – no dice. Mark noticed that one of the tires was without chain.  We found it in the snow, mangled.  I started shoveling snow out from behind the tires – but what was that I heard? A sound much better than eight tiny reindeer.  I heard a snow plow.  Off I went to find it and luckily I had my STABILicers on – shoes with metal cleats that fit over the shoes I was wearing.  I’m not hired by STABILicers to plug these ice shoes, but they are invaluable.  We rented some in Sequoia National Park once, and when we bought our cabin I bought about 10 pair in different sizes for guests.  Better than broken bones on slippery ice.

Rescued – almost

Ah – there was Tom, my savior, clearing out the parking lot of the Greenhorn Grill.   What could he do? He could plow out behind our car and maybe we could back down the hill.  He hadn’t been able to plow there yet because too many cars had been stuck!  Tom said the snow was a different consistency than usual – very heavy and wet with ice underneath.  It had snowed and rained and I guess there was too much moisture to push on through to the other side.

Now what?

Road behind us plowed and still we couldn’t move.  I started shoveling again when two guys on snowboards zoomed by and stopped.  Hey, could you help us?  Three more snowboarders arrived.  They were young, strong, everything we could want.  So they guided Mark in how to turn the wheels since we were quite close to the edge with a nice drop off – nothing that would injure us, but it sure would injure the car to slide down there.  They all five pushed on the car to make it go the way we wanted.  And we were down.  We parked in someone else’s parking place.

Rescued, for real.

I had a brilliant idea.  We had all the stuff for Thanksgiving dinner and the car was full.  Have any of you broken a trail, uphill, through deep, soft snow?  Where you sink to your knees with each step? It is NOT fun and in no way an adventure.  I was already beat from running up and down hills to find the snowplow and then shoveling snow.  I kept thinking of all the people who die of heart attacks while shoveling snow and I am 64.  So is Mark.  How many trips would we have to make?  It was a long walk – this next photo is from the balcony of the cabin and you can’t even see where our car was!

BUT there were five young, strong guys there.  Could they help?  Yes, they carried everything, making several trips each.  I started up with my tripod, a light duffel and a snow shovel.  Pretty soon the path was littered with items as I discarded them one by one.  These guys were angels of mercy and we gave them money to have dinner at the Grill on us.  Phew.  And off they went on their snowboards, jumping over the very ditch we would have landed in.

In the house it was much warmer than outside – 48 degrees.  It was 24 outside.  But the heater would not stay on.  Not to worry, I knew just what to do because it had happened when I was at the cabin with my daughter Karen, and she figured it out.  So I gave Mark a bowl of steaming hot water and three towels and instructed him to find the pipe that went from the heater in the basement to the outdoors and thaw it. He was pretty darn impressed that Karen had figured this out – while several men stood around saying oh no, that couldn’t be it.  Why do men insist on thinking women can’t do stuff? Anyhow, three hours later we were at 65 inside which is actually quite toasty.

Visitors

We’d had visitors since our last weekend up.

Raccoons.

We made it to grandmother’s (and grandfather’s) house

We’d gone over the river and through the woods, but you can forget about the horse knowing the way to carry the sleigh through the freshly fallen snow.  Forget about ho-ho-hos and jingle bells.  Down on the driveway we heard the most wonderful sound of all, and it wasn’t Rudolph.

Happy thanksgiving, everyone.  We have so much to be grateful for, including the fact that we have a cabin in the woods, have family to share with us, have heat in the house, doors that lock, and cupboards full of food.  In other words, we have shelter, food, security, family, friends – so much more than most people in the world have.  With that knowledge always in the front of my mind, I find it impossible to seriously complain about anything anymore.

And – with blogs, the internet, Creative Every Day, twitter and Facebook, we have an extended family the world over.  Even though I suffer technology overload sometimes, I’m grateful for it, nonetheless.


The Story of my Father and the Bird: Carving the Turkey


2010
09.28

It’s almost Thanksgiving again.  Which means, if you are going to have a turkey, that it must be carved.  My dad, who is 92, is already reflecting on the art of carving a turkey.  The older he gets, the more like a bulldog he is.  He gets a hold of an idea and hangs on to it, shaking it back and forth, up and down, while the idea gets bigger and bigger.  Usually, the idea holds imperfections of some sort which are magnified.

The turkey-carving idea started years ago.  My husband carves the turkey, or his nephew Kent, or maybe our son-in-law Matt.  In my dad’s mind, they are all one person and the carving job they do gets worse with each telling.  During today’s visit we (he, really) talked about it again.

The conversation was precipitated by my sister asking Dad if he’d carve the turkey at her house this year.  Bless her heart.  Something he takes great pride in.  But Cris, if you are reading this – do NOT let anyone take anything from the platter until Dad is completely finished and the platter has made it to the table in the grand old tradition of the Thanksgivings no one had.  Because last year, someone started eating before the dark meat had been properly arranged.

The Thanksgiving no one had

Seriously, look at Grandma in that picture.  She’s just placing that turkey in front of Gramp so he can do the manly job of carving, but who’s got the real strength? Grandma isn’t even breaking a sweat as she lightly places that 30-pounder in front of gramps.

George Bush had it right when he served turkey to the troops in Iraq.

Is it real, or is it Memorex?

That’s right, this was not a real turkey – it’s a cardboard picture of a turkey platter with a convincing curve in the middle.  Because, really, who can stand there holding a turkey like that?  It’s hard enough getting it out of the oven.

Because my father is an artist, carving a turkey is an art.  Everything must be aesthetically pleasing.  The white meat should be sliced in big, but thin, slices and fanned around the outside of the platter, which should be oval for the best impression.  In a smaller inner circle, slices of dark meat taken from the thigh should be fanned out.  I think a drumstick may go somewhere in this presentation, but I was not told and I did not ask.  Perhaps I did not listen. But the platter must be just so, even if no one special is there to view it.  It might look like this.  Something similar anyhow.

To tell the truth, I’m a little tired of hearing about slicing a turkey.  Carving a turkey.  We’ve all been hearing about it for several years but it seems to have taken on the ferver of a crusade.  Today, Mark/Kent/Matt – this person that has morphed together -  got ripped to shreds for their turkey-carving skills.  Their past efforts have been magnified to the point that they are larger-than-life.  I don’t think the word “skills” figured into it because they don’t carve a turkey – they rip it to shreds.  The description my dad was giving, and the ferver with which he told it, belonged in a horror movie.  You got the impression of chunks of turkey being flung about the room as they were pulled from the carcass by some monster of devastation.  My mind saw fangs shredding this meat as it landed on the platter.  The dark meat never stood a chance. It’s a wonder the turkey wasn’t raw, such was the description of  the melee that ensued when this morphed monster approached with the knife.

It may have ended up something like this.

Somehow, we survived this doomsday turkey carving and found the bird tasty and yummy.  I don’t believe a one of us was lamenting the presentation of the meat.  Take it back – there was one.

So today I listened – and believe me – I am not exaggerating.  I AM wondering, trying to parse out this whole thing as if it were parts of a sentence that could be ordered.  How to make order of an aging mind? Why are certain things rising to the surface over and over again, seemingly meaningless things like carving a turkey?  What does it really mean? I don’t think that near the end of life, carving a turkey could be a big concern.  What could it symbolize? Maybe being the best could be a concern.  Had you been the best?  Would others realize you had been the best? Have you appreciated the finer points in life?  Fulfilled your duties as a family man adequately?  Or better than adequately?  Who the heck knows what carving the dang turkey really means.  Dad probably doesn’t know.

But we listen.  Again and again. Telling ourselves that we will be equally insufferable at times should we made it to 92.  That our kids will go home saying, “I can’t believe she talked about that again.  Why can’t she just let go of it? It’s not important anyhow.”  And then they may contemplate the symbolism of a seemingly trivial matter.

Because we would really like carving the turkey, or whatever it is we are going to talk about over and over, to be symbolic of some deeper meaning and larger idea, not just the complaints of an old used-up person.  Sometimes it’s better to live the fantasy than know the truth.  Because a turkey, after all, is probably only a turkey.

Happy Thanksgiving Art Every Day Month #26


2009
11.25

I’m thankful for a happy home, good friends, family – all the usual.  What I’m most thankful for is that I can call such things “the usual.”  So many people can’t. It can always get better, though.  One of my closest friends recently went through a bout with Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.  Finally, she had a stem cell transplant and so far, all systems are go.  What’s remarkable about my friend Wendy is that she asked that no one send food, flowers, or gifts.  Instead she asked that they do acts of kindness.  Since Wendy has hundreds and hundreds  of dedicated friends all over the world, many acts of kindness were done and continue to be done.  Sometimes something as small as letting a car cut in ahead of you, or paying for the person behind you in the Starbucks line, can change a person’s day or even attitude.  You don’t have to change the world - Mother Teresa said you fill the ocean drop by drop – but you can help the people in it smile and relax and then turn around and do something for someone else.    So I’m going to try to show my thankfulness by being mindful of those around me and the little things I can do.

Here is today’s journal entry.  The Happy House.

journal 008

AEDM #25: Some Bucolic Tranquility for Turkey Eve


2009
11.25

Another early day on the blog – before caffeine even!  That’s a first.  But lots coming up today.  With Thanksgiving tomorrow, I’m in major prep. The entire family always comes to my house, and while everyone brings something, the set-up takes a while. Plus for me, figuring out when to put the turkey in the oven is higher mathematics. So today’s post will be simple – another page in the journal. Again, I used watercolor background and images from a National Geographic magazine. It (to me) is a little oasis of tranquility before tomorrow’s hubbub.

I love Thanksgiving and all the family and fun. So before the journal page, I’ll put in some photos of last Thanksgiving.

tgiving 3 resized

Yes, we always have party crackers and wear the little paper crowns that come inside.

tgiving 2 resized

And of course it’s a buffet.

tgiving resized

At least the kid’s table is right near ours.  And who knows, they may be glad to be there!

And now for today’s Art of the Day.

journal 002

A very happy Thanksgiving to everyone tomorrow.  No matter what our situation, we always have something to be thankful for.  Focus on the positive.  Much love to all.