Auntie Beth knows the holidays can be polarizing, and it’s not just because of voting habits.
It’s the cranberry sauce.
There will never be peace between the warring factions of jarred vs. whole berry.
For the record, Auntie Beth likes them both.
Grandma Kathy’s is a whole-berry house.
Let’s start there and examine the Thanksgiving staples:
Whole-berry cranberry sauce FTW.Also polarizing: green bean casserole. Auntie Beth is a fan.Not a fan of gravy, though.Mashed potatoes with the secret ingredient: cream cheese. Not great for the waistline, but worth it.Mac and cheese with about 27 different kinds of cheese.Dressing (NOT stuffing as it didn’t go in the turkey).Keep the carb fest going with rolls.Roasted carrots with sage and brown butter.A little salad so folks can pretend to be healthy.THE MAIN EVENTPumpkin pies: Libby’s regular on the left, fresh on the right.
For this Thanksgiving, we also had some different choices:
Brie and fig jam puffsDeviled eggsWhatever these are (delicious)
What are some dishes you can’t live without for Thanksgiving? Tell us all in the comments.
It was weird to watch my car drive away without me.
I packed the remaining stuff for the RV and worried about space.
The next day, the epic road trip started out fine. I had to pick up the RV in Kansas City, so I hitched a ride with my brother who was headed there for a gig.
Look at me with Lodell: fresh faced and ready for adventure.
Why did I have to get it in Kansas City? Good question. Cruise America doesn’t have any locations closer to St. Louis. It was KC or Chicago. Weird, but ok.
While on the way, Gideon was updating me on the flight. Allegiant flies direct from Savannah, Georgia, to Belleville, Illinois, (close to St. Louis) seasonally. No frills, of course. It’s a sky bus.
Despite my flight tracker saying they were en route and the Allegiant app saying they were on time, they were delayed. No explanation.
According to Gideon, for a moment, it looked like they were going to board. But then, the flight was canceled. No reason given. No attempt to reschedule: Sucks to be you; we’ll give you a voucher.
The next flight out on any airline that would get them there that night was $1,319 per ticket.
Mama ain’t got that kind of cash.
Survey says: Delta for $259 the next morning.
I arranged all this while sitting on a stack of furniture pads in the RV place that doubles as a UHaul rental center.
So that was fun.
They headed home. So did I.
Despite being 30 feet long, the RV is easy to drive. It’s not cheap, though.
Yikes. That’s about 10 miles per gallon.
What I had been counting on was having help loading the beast for the trip with everything the movers didn’t take.
Thar she blows!
But that wasn’t the case. My next-door neighbors took pity on me and helped me with some of it.
My guy, WHAT were you smoking when you created City Museum? Whatever it was, it was some good stuff. City Museum is like nothing I’ve ever seen in my life — in person or in movies/on TV. Not even “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory” comes close to this crazy place.
When I moved to St. Louis, people kept telling me I needed to visit. However, I don’t like museums. (It’s true. I’m sorry. But I don’t think you do either.) Finally, my friend Kate said that it is not a museum in any traditional sense of the word. She tried to describe it, then basically gave up.
“You have to see it,” she said. “It’s … sensory overload.”
So I went. And she’s right.
City Museum is like a museum in the way that I am like Beyoncé: barely any resemblance in form or function.
It is a building that houses artifacts — artifacts presented in chaos. It’s a 10-story fever dream.
I’ve now been four times.
Why?
You created notable features such as:
• An actual school bus cantilevered on the top floor over the street
• A Ferris wheel on top of the building
• A 10-story slide
• A five-story slide (that has not been open any of the four times I’ve been)
• A cave system
• The world’s largest (maybe) pair of underpants
• Two airplanes
I can’t even begin to summarize what is there. And every time I go, I discover something new.
Dominic and Gideon were in town, and I said we were going. They, like me, are not into museums. I said, “Hold that thought.”
Neither of them could believe what you created. Dominic lamented that, at 6’2″, he is too big for some of the tunnels.
“I wish we had come here when I was a kid.”
I fully agree. This could have entertained them for HOURS, and they would have slept well. (Every parent knows a day that wears out the kids is a good day.)
Here is just a sample of what we got into at your creation.
A seagull disgorges Dominic.Gideon finds a tunnel under the first floor. No, thank you.Dominic goes where I won’t.This is the entrance to a slide. Seriously.The caged bird yells, “Take my picture!”My hips don’t lie, nor do they fit in this opening.Dominic makes it to the top of one of two castles.
Speaking of the castles:
I’m sorry, TWO WHAT NOW?
There were a few moments where I worried about their safety and mine. I was right to worry. From the actual City Museum website:
The do-it-yourself, trying-anything nature of the museum led, not surprisingly, to injuries and, also not surprisingly, to dozens of personal injury suits. Mr. Cassilly’s response was to post telephone numbers of lawyers at the door.
The kids and I developed the habit of them going first into some cave/tunnel/hole to do reconnaissance then reporting back about the viability for me.
This tunnel was not for me.But this one was ok.
Yes, I used my own children as canaries in a coal mine.
I make no apologies. They were willing participants. And had a fabulous time.
Your water fitness class almost made me tap out. That would have been a first.
I don’t know if it is because it has been a while since I went to a class (<cough> six months <cough>) or whether it is because you are hard core.
Either way, I had jelly legs at the end of the class.
So thank you.
This pool is great for families (see water slides) but not so great for fitness courses in the deep end. I actually accidentally touched another participant because of the proximity. EEEK.
Not your fault.
I laughed when you shouted, “We always like men in here” to the man picking out a water noodle. To be fair, he did suggest he could be a shark among the mermaids (yuck).
And I appreciate that you gave the chatty ladies hell. (No, lady with pink hair, I don’t want to hear another word about your elbow, thankyouverymuch.)
Anyway, as that great sage Arnold Schwarzenegger said: “I’ll be back.”
This is what he wrote while walking home from work.
Dear Parents of Teens:
It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.* Maybe you can relate.
If there is one thing my boys have been this week is a fantastic distraction from chaos in the Capitol.
Here are some vignettes that have amused me:
Dominic, lifting the lid of the pot on the stove: What’s this? Me: Turkey chili. Dominic: I’m using the slotted spoon so I don’t get as much liquid. Me: Why? Use the ladle there against the side of the pot to drain it off. Dominic: Too late. Me: (loud sigh) Dominic: I love you.
Me, eating too many chips a few days before I decided to begin my diet again: I’ve given up. Gideon: Haven’t we all?
Dominic, listening to ’80s music that he has JUST DISCOVERED like he’s some kind of musical Magellan: You know that piña colada song? Me: Of course. Dominic: How do they not have trust issues afterward?
Me, hosing Gideon down with Lysol as we come in the door: OK. Now do me. Gideon: OK Me, slipping in the spray on the floor: (high-pitched yodel) Gideon: So you turn into Michael Jackson when you nearly fall?
Dominic: Are they all back from Marshall’s? Me: “All” who? It was just your father and Gideon. Dominic: Gideon brought a posse into Publix. Three girls! Me: What? I knew about two. Who’s the third? Dominic: I don’t know. Me: Are you jealous? Don’t you have a girl? Dominic: Yes, I’m jealous. I’m all alone. [The girl] and I are on a break.
Dominic: Have you seen the home screen on Gideon’s new phone? Me: No! What is it? Dominic: His new girl. Me, yelling down the hall to Gideon: I bought you that phone. Now let me peep that girl! Dominic: (laughs like Muttley)
Me to our Alexa device outfitted with the Samuel L. Jackson voice: Hey Samuel, set a two-hour timer. Samuel L. Jackson: Two hours, Motherf—er. Gideon, from inside the bathroom: (laughs like Muttley)
Me, seeing Gideon has a bag of fruit: Why do you have that? Gideon: Remember? [His girl’s name] and I have a picnic date. Me: Oh right. Gideon: She wants me to meet her mom. What do I say? Me: Hello.
If you have stories to share — funny or not — please do.
Otherwise, I’ll be over here by myself, regretting my decision to do Dry January.
I hope you are better than 2020. (2020 can suck it.)
I’m not one for resolutions. I usually declare things I won’t do or won’t give up. Just to be contrary. (Look. Listen. Give me this one rebellious thing. That’s about the only one!)
Put up with less than I need/deserve/worked for, etc. I am not a “Welcome!” mat. Mixed progress: I occasionally washed other people’s dishes and clothes, but I got better about calmly explaining what was bothering me.
Save money. Yeah, I know I should, but let’s be honest: I won’t. Success: I didn’t.
Stay home. I want to say “absof–kinlutely” to adventures near and far. Dream scenario: I get paid to write about it. Fail: I think we all know what happened this year.
Continue procrastinating on my book. This is the year I finish it, write the proposal, and find an agent. If E.L. James can become rich and famous off her trashTwilight fan fictionwork, so can I. Fail: I did absolutely no work on it. Lack of motivation, thy name is COVID-19.
Lose more than just five more pounds. I’m calling that my “wine cushion.” Success: I found a few pounds more of me. Pandemic pounds FTW!
Stay in this place with the small kitchen. When it’s a pain to make things as fairly easy as Scotch eggs, it’s time to upgrade. Success: We moved to a larger place with a slightly larger kitchen.
Ignore show suggestions from certain like-minded people. I resisted watching “Killing Eve.” I was stupid. Success: I’m even taking suggestions from randos on Twitter. I’ve got some issues with “Bridgerton.” Who wants to chat about it with me?
Let people try to make me feel even slightly embarrassed about my love of bad taxidermy. Those uptight people can shove it. My obsession is Hando approved. Success: I let my freak flag fly this year to positive results.
Vote for Trump. Duh. Success: Duh.
Stop writing blog posts at least twice a week. I’ve been keeping this pace since April, so I’m pretty proud of myself. Success-ish: I was doing well until the holidays. I blame Netflix.
In 2021, I will not:
Take for granted the ability to hug friends, see a movie in a theater, see live music, eat in a restaurant, travel, go out without a mask, work out at the gym, etc.
Take for granted physical mobility. (This was the year I broke my ankle and damaged my rotator cuff. So that’s been fun.)
Lament a packed schedule of in-person meetings.
Ever get off political mailing lists, apparently.
Be able to wear real shoes again without dealing with discomfort. (I wore flip flops for six months straight.)
Thanks for taking me to “shoot the hooch.” I cannot believe I grew up in Atlanta and never did this before.**
I almost feel like I need to turn in my Southern girl card.
But not quite, as I adapted like a champ.
Ratty visor? Check.
Brewery coozies? Check.
Cooler filled with beer? Check.
Bungee cords to tie our tubes together? Check.
Bikini to get some sun (even though I know better)? Check.
The sun was hot. The beer and the water were cold.
It was a perfect day.
Perfect until I fell in, that is. (No, apparently I CAN’T reach your speaker carabiner.)
So there I was, dangling in the water, contemplating how best to get back in the tube when something touched my leg.
SOMETHING TOUCHED MY LEG.
My human brain knew it was just river weed.
My lizard brain lost it.
I started scream laughing. You started scream laughing. At me.
Here’s a dramatic re-enactment of me, slippery from sunscreen and still screeching, trying to get back into the innertube.
In addition to making sure to stay in the tube next time, we also will have to do a better job of tying you to the cooler float so you don’t end up in someone else’s pod, flouting social distancing expectations.
I haven’t made banana bread in years, but I made some this week.
Why?
I don’t know. I guess I just had time.
Here’s a list of things I’ve made while in captivity:
1. The aforementioned banana bread. Sadly, without nuts. One of my cage mates ate all the walnuts and pecans we had and didn’t put them on the grocery list.
2. Black chickpea hummus with black garlic and preserved lemon. We are VERY FANCY in isolation.
Yes, it looks like poo. Trust me: It’s delicious.
3. Pasteles y arroz con gandules. Just like Abuela used to make.
4. Pernil. That takes four hours in the oven. Luckily, I have PLENTY of time.
5. Pork tamales. Labor intensive? Yes? Worth it? Also yes.
6. Red chili sauce for the above. You don’t like spicy things, you say? Good thing I didn’t invite you over.
7. Charro beans. Never made them, but I could have eaten the whole pot of them on my own.
8. Tapioca pudding. My mom used to make this all the time. I’ve never made it. I noticed a box of tapioca in the pantry. How did it get there? I don’t know. But Dominic is a huge fan, so I ended up making two batches.
9. Chicken Parmigiana. Again, something I’ve never made. It’s a wee bit of a pain. Would I make it again? Hell yes.
Observe and report 