Another glorious holiday is over. Although the kids are grown, they always reappear this time of year to partake of the feast.
This year, the daughter even dragged along a couple of her friends (who apparently had no other party to attend). Their presence was unannounced but not upsetting. We usually load up the table with way too much food.
The guys of the group sat in the den and railed at the football games, the bad calls (which there are… always!) and the poor playing decisions (which there are… always!). But a pleasant time was had by all.
Meanwhile, the female persuasion assisted Mother in the kitchen and talked. And talked. I’m sure it was all very important stuff. It usually is, though the importance would probably be lost on the male of the species.
The food was on the table and the dinner bell was rung just as the first game of the day reached halftime. My wife keeps track of that “two minute warning” and uses it wisely. Not that she needed to follow the game, seeing the “menfolk” lumber out of the den/cave to use the facilities and pass by and smell the aromas emanating from the kitchen was enough to tell her where it was in the game.
After the feasting, the game was midway through the third quarter and the younger folk relaxed in the den while I helped the missus clear the table and pack up the food. I have always been the designated dishwasher around the house and I’ve got it down to an artform.
While I was sudsing away, Mother put most the food in plastic containers set up on the table, to use for a buffet line if anyone should feel a little nibbly later – and someone always was, it seems – but the plastic containers also serve as traveling containers.
In years passed, leftover turkey would be a staple of our post-holiday diet for at least a week. Nowadays, we avoid that torture on our tastebuds by sending the goodies away with the guests. Split enough ways, each can have turkey for a couple of days and no one has to suffer through an entire week. Everyone can share the memories of the feast.
After the day’s excitement, feasting, football, and visiting with family and friends – new and old – we relaxed in front of a fire. No television. Both of us in our books…
Her reading one on her kindle, me writing one on my laptop.
We always enjoy the excitement of the day, but we are always a bit relived when it is over and all the hard work has paid off.
Thankfully, all the fuss is only one day a year.
Even if the thanks are a daily occurrence.