Thursday, November 26, 2009

Thanksbirthday 09

Yesterday

Pulled aside for two cops who were winding their way to town to reinforce the taut cord of civility behind which holiday madness lurked with rolling eyes and frothy mouth. I met a bit of said madness outside the strip mall where I sat eating a manapua at lunch, poking idly at my phone while a homeless man tried out different pet names for me until I picked up my drink and trotted away with a wave.

At dusk I threw my shopping into the trunk and collapsed in a booth at Krispy Kreme to suck down a cup of decaf and play with the free internet until my mom's flight arrived. "You're missing an eye!" she yelped as I pulled up. An absurdly young teenage clerk at Checker talked us into buying two headlights instead of just the one. I could not say no; he hadn't given me that sad car-savvy-man-face when it took me five minutes scrabbling around to find the lever to pop the hood. He had cheered.

My mother spun stories into the darkness as we drove home along the cliffs; crashed ships and escaped bodies and metal plates. I need to keep writing them down before they slip away.

Today

Quiet pre-dawn house, whispers and kisses, pattering feet and burbling coffee pot. The man-person whisked fresh hollandaise, I cut tomatoes and basil, my mom made chocolate royal icing from scratch. We drank two bottles of wine and ate ourselves into couch-stupors before the turkey was even in the oven.







The turkey kept us poking at it for 6 hours before deciding it was ready. We curled on the boy's bed to wait. "Mmmm, my hands smell like sage," said my mom. Gavin sniffed them and made an appreciative squeak, snuggling up to her neck. "Granny," he said tenderly, "Your face smells like age, too."

We descended upon the big table like wolves with cutlery, Gavin throwing up toasts to the broccoli casserole every few minutes against the chorus of classical Christmas music. The feast was idyllic, except that the rolls showed up completely smashed. Jerks.



I wanted to get pictures of the pumpkin-rum- and chocolate-pecan pies, but by the time I remembered, they looked like someone ate them with their face.

Also, the official Birthday Outfit was in action. With wizard sleeves. Fancy.



The storms have swept back in, shaking the house with thunder and lulling the household to sleep with the sussurus of rain on the leaky roof. Let's go, then, holidays.

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