I dreamed about fried chicken and chocolate malts a few
nights ago. Oh, boy, you know what that means. It means I’ve been dieting too
long. Not only that, I was reading The
Hunger Games and the first few chapters of that book talks a lot about food.
Decadent food of all descriptions. The chili and sandwich was a splurge directly
brought on by my food dream and that book. I’m just glad it wasn’t a sex dream
or I might have been arrested for molesting the drive-through speaker pole and
that would not have been a pretty sight. Okay, that sounds desperate. The cold,
hard fact is lust at my age goes down the Ice Cream Road more often than
anywhere else. Speaking of lust, right
now the 12 Men of Christmas movie is
playing in the background. It’s about these guys who get badgered into doing a
naked calendar to raise money for their rescue squad. Let me tell you, the
casting director had a good eye for eye candy but as Christmas movies go it’s a
far cry from It’s a Wonderful Life
with Jimmy Steward. “Clarence! Clarence! Help me, Clarence! Save me from
stupid Christmas movies that air on an endless loop designed to get us in the
mood for Black Friday shopping."
I’ve planned my Thanksgiving dinner. I bought a
package of frozen turkey legs, a can of cranberry sauce, a small package of
King’s Hawaiian sweet rolls---I would kill to eat those rolls before the 27th---a squash and
a frozen pumpkin pie. When I got the pie home I was bummed out that I have to
actually bake it. I had it all
planned out how I’d cut it into ten slices and defrost one sliver every three days. I’m
afraid if the house fills up with pumpkin pie scents it will kick start some
binge eating and I’ve come too far with my current diet to want that to happen. When I was growing up, my mom baked a lot of holiday pies. Her mincemeat pie filling
marinated in a basement crock for weeks and was like no other you can buy today. Me? My only
claim to culinary fame around the holidays was I could make a great pecan pie.
Jeez, I can feel a roll of fat stalking and circling my waist just thinking about holidays gone by. But traditions are traditions and I will enjoy my drumstick and I
might even make a green bean casserole with mushroom soup. I will Martha
Steward it up by using fresh green bean---assuming I can get back out to the
store.
Can you believe it, I’ve never once in my entire life hosted
or cooked a Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner? I’m actually looking
forward to doing it this year, however abbreviated and filled with cooking shortcuts
it will be. In the early decades of Don’s and my relationship we’d always go to
my parent’s house but after Mom passed away no one felt like celebrating. She was our holiday anchor. Then one of Don’s sister-in-laws
started included us in with her large family. Both places were warm gatherings and at
mom’s house we’d go snowmobiling or sledding with my nephew and nieces after
dinner. With Don’s family, board or card games followed dinner and he talked so
much he had a reputation for never knowing when it was his turn to play his
hand. People would fight over sitting or not sitting next to him---depending on the game being played---so they could use that quirk
to their advantage. Big sigh here. To paraphrase an ancient Ann Landers quote, “Old
people reminisce about the past because they have no futures and young people
dream about the future because they have no pasts.” How true that is in my
crazy, widowhood world where I don't even know what I'm going to be doing tomorrow. I need an anchor, a place to moor my scattered thoughts so I don't turn into a forgotten marshmallow, harden by time. ©
