The Task At Hand

I’m either a truly wonderful, loving and giving person–or a sycophantic  idiot.   

The jury in my head is still out on that, but come Thanksgiving evening, I just might have a consensus vote.

Here’s why…..

My mother has announced that she wants to have Thanksgiving at her house this year.   No big deal, right?    Well, the problem is her house is a lovely, but small, yet tastefully appointed garden home in the Texas Hill Country, one of the Lone Star State’s lovliest areas.  Whenever I visit,  we have cocktails on her front porch at 5pm sharp.    We sit there, sip and survey.   You can actually see the world slow down from this vantage point.  It’s a wonderful contrast from the NASCAR pace I live when I’m at home.   This single, childless woman will retire there someday.   It’s where I’ll write my novel. 

I’d be in good company.  The mood of the town where she lives is conducive to that sort of enterprise.   It’s  charming and has an artsy vibe to it.  I suppose it’s the landscape of the Hill Country.    It’s small, yet  there’s a big city feel that lis underneath.    The composition of its residents is interesting;  many are “monied” ex-San Antonians who have, over the years, participated in a major diaspora to the northwest…to the  slower, much safer haven of “the hills”.   Classic White Flight

But San Antonio’s loss, is this burg’s gain.   It’s City Fathers, many with big city resumes,  are a progressive lot.  They’ve turned this sleepy little place into a place that’s wide awake, but still needs a nap and that’s very appealing to residents who love the slower pace, but still want citified options.   That said, there’s always something to do.  This past weekend’s visit  included a wine tasting, an art show then  we capped off the evening with a visit  to a relatively new wine bar that offers about 25 different wines on tap.     Hardly a new concept, but very a hip place for a city of 12-thousand. 

When the rest of the family comes to town for Thanksgiving, we’ll go there.  

Which leads me to the gist of this post.  My octogenarian mother  wants to host Thanksgiving this year, something she’s never done before and because I’m the dutiful daughter that I am, that means ol’  Laurie will have to get her “Hazel” on and fix most of a traditional Thanksgiving dinner for 12 adults…and one adultress.

old joke

But seriously, I’ve volunteered to  the cooking for this sizeable undertaking.  And sizeable it is.  We’re talking 12 adults and five children, all under the age of eight;  three of which are toddlers.    


Lots and lots and lots of children,  cramped in a small house. 

Restless children.

Cranky children.

At Thanksgiving…with me…under the same roof.

And no doubt, they’ll play their Ting Tinglers; fiddle with their Flu Floopers; Tar Tinkers.  They’ll bang their Who Hoovers; grind their Gar Ginkers and Trum Tupers.   And of course, NO holiday would be complete without the cacophony produced by kids toying with their  Blum Bloopers,  Who Wompers and their Zu Zitters. 


So, here’s what will be on my Thanksgiving day menu:

I’ll serve the rest of the family turkey and dressing.


And now, you may opine your ass off...

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