So Thanksgiving is tomorrow and we all know what that means…it
means my sister and I will be tossing shredded cheese and diced garlic into
anything that will stand still (my dad, Sam, sleeping on the couch is no
exception.) I have, I feel, slacked a
bit in my Thanksgiving duties this year as I haven’t put together a menu,
opting instead for the oh-so-easy, “Let’s just do what we did last year.” (Turns out that ain’t so bad, over-achieving
self. Remember this in 2013?) Anyway, I would like to stop for a minute and
point out the things in my life for which I’m thankful, since I’m fairly
well-versed in pointing out the things for which I’m not grateful the other 364
days of the year. So, here it is…stuff I
like. Turkey Day edition.
1. My mother’s
dressing. Yes, it IS called dressing
because we don’t shove it up a bird’s butt.
It is made in the proper Southern tradition of slapping it in a
casserole dish and cooked until I am slobbering at the oven door with a pot of
gravy laying in wait. It is moist, it is
flavorful, and more importantly? It
reheats to make the best damn turkey sandwiches this side of whatever part of
the country calls it stuffing. Everyone
has that ONE Thanksgiving dish that has to make an appearance, and this is
mine. And I truly believe that even
though I have the recipe, I will never be able to make it as well as Sharon
Justice.
This is my mother, Sharon. She's pictured here holding a stalk of edamame and not a dish of dressing, but the imagination can work wonders.
2. Prepared
pineapple. Here’s the thing. I f’ing love pineapple. Here’s another thing. I will gladly pay someone a bit more to shave
that thing down into an edible form of fruit.
This is pretty hard-core for me, because I’m of the “I’m not paying
someone for his elbow grease, of which I have quite the bountiful supply” train
of thought. But I’m totally willing to
pay someone that extra 50 cents to do that deed for me. Why?
Because it sucks. I usually wind
up a cursing, sticky mess with way less pineapple than I think I’m deserved and
nowhere closer to my pineapple mango salsa that I’ve been craving all day. So there it is. One of the few things I’ll pay for in
exchange for having it done for me. The
only other items in this category are my hair stylist, my mechanic, and my
spice rack alphabetizer.
This guy obviously hates peeling pineapple, as he's apparently given up mid-task and taken the high (cocktail-ridden) road to escape. Actually, that looks kind of tasty...
3. Speaking of my
hair, let’s talk Natalie Bryant. Natalie
was a best friend WAY before she picked up the scissors, but now I’m lucky to
count her as the best in both the friend and magic coif worker category. I make no bones about the fact that I’m
fairly clueless when it comes to beauty.
Makeup confounds me and my hair’s been of the “wash it and let it dry
with the window down on the way to work” persuasion for quite some time
now. But Natalie, that sneaky vixen, has
convinced me that hair can be much more, and I’m now the girl who packs her
blow-dryer and straightening iron so I can properly style my newly-minted,
bright red bangs on vacation. Best
friend Natalie is also not afraid to tell me when my outfit makes me look like
an extra from Revenge of the Nerds, which is a great quality for at least one
person in your life to possess. Included
in the best friend category, I must mention one Kirku King, as she’s done my
makeup on MORE than one occasion and will also unabashedly tell me my fashion
choices are becoming alarmingly reminiscent of an episode of Dawson’s Creek. Plus, Kirku’s always good for a game of cards,
a pitcher of sleuth juice, and a great exchange of Pretty Woman quotes.
The fashion-watchers in question. Note I look semi-put together.
4. My cat,
Mooney. We actually have three cats
(borderline crazy cat people, but we’re not quite there yet according to the
Nataional Crazy Cat Folks of North America guidelines) but Mooney is the only
one who decides that, “Hey, it’s 4am. I’m
going to go suffocate my owner!” Most people
would find this to be intrusive and rather irritating. I also find this action intrusive and
irritating, but it’s also led to many an early-morning revelation that only
comes to those half-asleep and wearing a large cat on her head. I’ve written songs, I’ve planned my to-do
list, plus I’ve invented the anti-cat pillow while in the state of sort-of
slumber, and I owe it to my sleep-interrupting feline Mooney. I’ve solved the world’s problems, balanced
our budget, and written sonnets that would make Shakespeare vomit in his mouth
a little bit. Funny thing is, Mooney
might be #1 on this list if I could remember ANY of the “revelations” I just mentioned. But once he finally gets pushed off the
pillow, I just hit the snooze button for as long as possible before I have to
get up early to straighten my bangs.
Mooney. The Feline Mosquito.
5. Finally, I do have to give a shout-out to the hubs, Travis, for constantly putting up with my failed (and sometimes non-failed) creations in the kitchen. He accepts the fact that I curse like a sailor, drink like a drunk sailor, and dance like an even drunker sailor. He knows the way to my heart is a dust pan full of glass, a quilt by the lake, and a hammock in the woods. He also has hot tattoos and a sweet ass. Hehe.
The husband...and a couple of the referenced tattoos.
So there ya have it.
I would write more, but I now have to force my way down the baking aisle
of Kroger on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving and curse at myself for not
doing it on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, as I opted to get a free lunch at
Taco Mamacita instead. Muy stupido,
senorita.
