Turkey Day, a Review (Of Sorts)

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As I related yesterday, I spent Thanksgiving down Maryland way. Though I was only there for three full days, it was good to see everyone.

The grandkids are growing like weeds. Every time I see them it appears that they've grown four or five inches. Of course, that's not really true, just feels like it. (Though Roberto has grown an inch or so since his birthday, Finnegan is completely mobile now and is on the cusp of actually walking. I think he's going to be like his mother. The Nuke went straight from crawling to sprinting, she has yet to slow down!)

I want to get into the holiday mood, I really do, but life has taught me to tread carefully vis-à-vis the holidays. (Which is, to me, the period from Thanksgiving to Epiphany, used to start around Halloween, doesn't now for reasons I might talk about in a bit, if I remember to.)

I know it's completely without foundation, but it seems to me, over the last decade or so, that death stalks the holidays. Friends dying, beloved cats, so far no relatives, but ...

I told the kids recently, well I told LUSH, that if I get sick near a holiday, you know a death bed sort of thing, "keep my ass alive until at least a month after the holidays, I don't want to ruin it for everyone else!"

It just seems that every time I've gotten a little too excited about the holidays, someone I care about died. So I figure if I lay low, not get too excited, then maybe that won't happen.

Yeah, right.

Oh, the Halloween thing, once the kids grew up and moved away (and our town became inundated with yuppy parents¹) it seemed to make no sense to "celebrate" Halloween. We live in an aging, middle class neighborhood so we don't see many kids anymore either. Kind of sad. But then again, what's the point? (Not being Catholic, or Mexican, I don't really view it as a religious holiday either. Though I do think the whole Día de los Muertos thing is kinda cool, though a bit morbid.)

Anyhoo, the trip down to Maryland having been covered, what was the stay in Maryland like?

Well, oddly enough, it was colder down there than it was in Little Rhody, which surprised me. Mind you, it didn't faze me either, we Vermonters are made of much sterner stuff than those southern New Englanders. (Meaning I don't consider it "cold" unless the thermometer is well below freezing, typically subzero Fahrenheit.) Recently one of my Little Rhodian colleagues mentioned that "it's going to be cold tomorrow," to which I replied, "colder perhaps, but not cold." Puzzled him it did. Heck, it didn't get below 30. (Which in C is bloody hot, we're talking F here.)

Now I'm not trying to claim that I'm as tough as say, the Inuit, but I've seen cold, real cold. Once delivered newspapers when the thermometer indicated -30°, afterwards I walked to school (yes, uphill, both ways). Mind you, that's still air, none of this wind chill stuff. Though truth be told, -30° due to wind chill feels much colder than the still air variety. DAMHIK.

Now where was I? Oh yeah, Maryland. Sunny (though chilly), three grandkids present, lots of food, and lots of football on the telly. I typically don't watch a lot of football these days, having grown very tired of idiotic (and mostly "woke" commercials), terrible officiating, and very bad announcers. But for Thanksgiving I'll make an exception, tradition ya know. (I also make an exception for Michigan vs. Ohio State - Go Blue! and Army vs. Navy - Go Navy, Beat Army.)

We had fun in each other's company and ate far too much. Had one rather odd incident involving cranberry sauce (not sure why it's called a sauce, but there ya go). The Nuke had purchased a number of cans of that oh-so-necessary accompaniment to the Thanksgiving meal (YMMV) and upon opening a third can (for little Roberto can't get enough cranberry sauce) she exclaimed in horror that, "something is wrong with it!" as she dug through it with her fingers.

Aghast, I looked at her and bellowed, "Dear Lord, what are you doing to that wonderful whole berry cranberry sauce! Render it hither!"

Blushing slightly, she said, "Uh, I thought it had gone bad."

Turns out, I'm the only one in the family that actually likes the whole berry variety, a taste I didn't acquire until my late 40s, or so I believe. Hated it as a kid, that much I remember. So glory of glories, I had the whole can to myself. Did I eat all of it? Why yes, yes I did. But not in one sitting, had the rest the day after.

So it was great to visit the "Old Line State," as I really love it down there. Well, except maybe Baltimore, I've never been in to the city (I abhor cities in general, well, except London and Paris) but it does have a certain sordid reputation. (Perhaps I've binge watched The Wire too many times. What? You haven't seen that? Do go find it, great television.)

Going back for Christmas, and I've promised Roberto that I'll grow a moustache (don't ask), yes, yes, pictures will follow. Speaking of pictures ...

Roberto and his sister Tuttlesdottir on their massive playground set
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The holly!
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Wee Finnegan looking for trouble.
If you look closely you can see that Buzz Lightyear tried, in vain, to stop him.
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Roberto caught in the act of messing with climbing Santa.
He loves turning the volume up (the thing plays Christmas carols), as it annoys the adults.
(I don't count myself in that crowd.)
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Putting the Christmas decorations up the day after Thanksgiving was a pleasant surprise, now I'm rather in the holiday spirit. December is here, my favorite month.

I'd best be careful ...

¹ The sort of parents who take their kids via vehicle to a rich neighborhood to go trick-or-treating. Hates them, we do.