When the JedI and I decided on the menu for this year's Thanksgiving, it was based on what we wanted to eat rather than necessarily the 'traditional' meal. We decided on a ham, which naturally led to scalloped potatoes (gruyere and extra sharp white cheddar, thank you very much). I wanted my mother's dressing, because that is the Thanksgiving taste of childhood (other than Aunt Jane's divinity). The menu quickly filled up with the ubiquitous green bean casserole, only made from scratch and with fresh green beans and mushrooms...peppered chicken gravy to go on the dressing...cranberry yuzu chutney with candied ginger...a pumpkin pie (my first time making one ever!)...chocolate pot de creme...lemon chiffon pudding cake...
All of this may explain why I now fit in "big girl" clothing.
Nevertheless, it was wonderful. When I saw the ham, it was cradled tenderly in JedI's arms like Baby Jesus--and was about the size of the Baby Jesus. "Why would you order eight pounds of ham for two people?!" I demanded, and he was quick to point out that he had only requested that his boss order us in a ham, and had not specified quantity. Apparently my love of any type of pork product is well known for knowing not only no bounds, but no weight requirements either. I did try to get JedI to take a picture of it, possibly with a tea towel over his head like the Virgin Mary mantle. "We could use it for our Christmas card," I said, using the most persuasive argument I could think of. He very nearly agreed; but I think I ruined it by suggesting that the child had obviously taken after its father in the chin area.
And with Thanksgiving over, we move on to THE CHRISTMAS SEASON. I am so excited for it this year!
We still have no floor space for a tree, and even if we did there is still Feral Fawcett and her 3:47 a.m. Formula One racetrack, as well as her midnight crazies. And her midafternoon fury. And her early morning rumpus. And her late afternoon sulky rampage. And her daily taunting of the squirrel outside the window who does something to cheese her off and sets the tone for her whole attitude for the day. JedI says that having a cat is like having a teenage daughter. He works hard, he supports us, he comes home and wants just a little affection, and instead she attacks his feet, hisses, and rolls onto her back so when he tries to pet her belly she can turn into the feline equivalent of a bear trap. He maintains that it's like walking into a room and having your teenage daughter look up from her cell phone (that you pay for) and saying "Suck it, pops."
So I have done a Christmas tree out of lights on the wall, and hung ornaments on it, in the first stages of Christmas JOY. JedI came home early a few nights ago and found me with the lights on the wall (held up with masking tape so I could see how it would look) and the new Christmas bedding on the bed. Since he is firmly of the belief that Christmas season begins THE DAY AFTER THANKSGIVING, I was a little worried; but he sighed, and said with that husband-weary tone that means I am Not Actually In Trouble "I have realized you have absolutely no self control when it comes to Christmas." He did still ban Christmas carols until after Thanksgiving...but he can't stop me now!