Thanksgiving eve I headed to the airport, two hours early, as usual, and waited in a bar and decided to call some friends and wish them a happy holiday. As I sat in the bar next to terminal C-14 in the Portland airport, sipping a Long Island Iced Tea that I ordered in a fit of stupidity, I picked up the phone. **** and **** have not yet filed for divorce, so that seems a plus. **** was, as usual, doing wonderfully. ****, however, was on his way to Reno and was, in fact, standing in the airport. I asked where and he replied "terminal C-14." I stuck my head out of the bar and there he was, talking to me on his cell. It was nice to catch up.
Thanksgiving was wonderful. _sister_madly_ is well known for being a phenomenally bad cook. I love her dearly, but to say otherwise about her cooking would be lying. What I can never understand, though, is why she's such a bad cook. I'm fairly competent in the kitchen and when I watch her cook, I can never quite tell exactly when the disaster strikes, but strike it does. Needless to say I was rather hesitant when she told me she would be cooking Thanksgiving dinner. I decided that I wasn't going to be vegetarian for that day and she was going to prepare a Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, broccoli, pumpkin pie and wine. Well, she wasn't really going to prepare the wine; she was going to dole it out. In large quantities. Repeatedly.
I'm unsure if her strategy was to get me so drunk that I couldn't taste the food, but she succeeded at the former and not at the latter. I could still easily taste the food. I was astonished. It was fantastic. This was one of the best Thanksgiving dinners I can recall and _sister_madly_ cooked it. It was great.
The wine poured over the kitchen counter was great. The whipped cream sprayed over the clean dishes was also great. The pumpkin pie mix that covered her Hello Kitty slippers was great. The multiple bottles of wine that were consumed in a few hours was great. The turkey that we tried to throw across the table into each other's mouths was great. The mashed potatoes that got smeared on my face were great.
I think I should go back for seconds next year.