"I am an idealistic, naive, passionate, truth-seeking, spiritually motivated artist, unschooled in the science of law and finance." --Wesley Snipes

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

post-Turkey Day wrap-up

Thanksgiving at the Robinson house was less-stressful than usual this year. But then, nothing can top the Turkey Day of two years ago. My aunt got drunk and bullied my father, who, in some act of holiday bravado, brandished a decades-old carving knife ("This knife has been in the family since before I was born! It must be at least 40 years old!" "Um, Dad, it must be at least 60 years old..."), and began swinging it around the kitchen to the chagrin of my mother who loudly warned him that he was going to hurt somebody, seconds before he sliced off the tip of his thumb. Blood spurted, my mother continued to yell ("Serves you right, you idiot!") and the rest of us who weren't berating him tried to stanch the flow and bandage the thumb. A few minutes later, he stubbornly tried to carve the turkey as I tried to wrest the giant scimitar-like ancient knife from his wounded hand. This resulted in a tug-of-war which, had my mother not smartly interceded, probably would have put us both in the hospital. Now, needless to say, the food was all ice-cold by the time we sat down to eat. The gravy--a special recipe by Darla, an old lady who inexplicably shows up at Robinson family events, was good but scant. Through some miscalculation, she only managed to make about a cup. So I ate my potatoes cold and dry, my turkey cold and dry, and tried to drink enough beer to avoid going insane. Oh, and then there is my cousin Mike (a hippie pothead) and his girlfriend, who was, I swear, high to the gills on acid. She kept cornering me and spouting gibberish. I was happy to take leave of the family after that ordeal.

Thankfully, this year's event was trouble-free. We ate turkey and potatoes and stuffing with cranberries and apples, while Stacey subsisted on ungravied mashers, corn casserole, and a dinner role. After dinner, we drank beer and watched BBC America which had Gordon Ramsay cursing like, well, Gordon Ramsay. Charlie the Dog was present, which greatly excited my dad. He fed him cheese, salami, bacon, turkey, and probably a lot of other things I've forgotten.

1 comment:

sandrasimonds said...


Sounds like it was fun!