I really enjoy the holidays, as long as family (mine) isn’t involved.
This year, Stij and I are staying home. Riot gear has become prohibitively expensive to rent these days, and I can’t find anyone who will lend me a tranquilizer gun with darts, so the decision was pretty much made for us.
Last night, we began meal-planning.
“You want a turkey, right?” I asked.
“Those are adult diapers. We are talking about food here.”
Stij sighed. “With the way you cook, it’s hard to tell the difference.”
Conversation would have come to an abrupt end with shouted threats and tears if it hadn’t been the truth.
Can’t argue with that.
“Okay, so you cook the turkey and I’ll make wise cracks.”
“I’d be happy to cook the turkey.”
“Fine. What about side dishes? I can make those!”
“Do you remember three Thanksgivings ago?” Stij asked with right eyebrow raised.
“I had no idea, up until that very day, that mashed potatoes were actually flammable.”
“No mashed potatoes, then. I know! How about green bean casserole?”
“How about I have you arrested for attempted murder?”
“All right. Then how about corn? I can make corn. You slit the bag, pour it into boiling water, and let it cook.”
Stij favored me with a pitying gaze normally reserved for the irretrievably retarded. “Does Thanksgiving 2009 ring any bells?”
“Well, I won’t use popcorn this time.”
“What a mess that was! The whole kitchen was full of wet popcorn. I had to take a snow shovel to that crap! How many cups did you use, anyhow?”
“Five or six, I think.”
“Now wonder it was still popping on Christmas Eve! That trash can sounded like a the percussion section of a Mariachi band!”
“How about a tossed salad?”
“Are you referring to Thanksgiving 2005 and the tossed salad that we tossed out the back door and poisoned every rabbit in the neighborhood, plus the Chihuahua across the street.”
“Oh, I remember that. I thought the Chihuahua was dancing, though.”
“No, he was seizing.”
“Well, then, can I make dessert?”
“Oh, right. I think that coconut cream pie is still crawling around in back yard somewhere. Can I at least set the table?”
“Set it on fire, you mean?”
“I didn’t do that on purpose.”
“You never do any of it on purpose. It just happens. You become a menace to society every time you step into a kitchen. This year, I want to have something more to be thankful for than the Poison Control Center and the nearest Emergency Room. We are probably the only couple who orders activated charcoal in fifty-pound bags.”
“We’re almost out, by the way.”
“I rest my case.”
So, dear readers, Stij will be preparing our Thanksgiving feast this year. However, for Christmas dinner….