Tuesday before Thanksgiving

For the first twenty-two years of my life, I did nothing for Thanksgiving. Indeed, I didn't do Thanksgiving. Polish people don't quite get the holiday. They've taken on bits and pieces of an American Halloween and Valentine's Day, but they leave this one alone.

And then boom! I entered my new American family and Thanksgiving was born. Perhaps to make up for lost time, I gave this holiday every bit of my effort. I know there are complicated discussions now about the origins of Thanksgiving, but it remains the case, I think, that the celebration that occurs in nearly every American household is a good one: Thanksgiving allows us to take time off to be with people we love (or at least like -- I've heard of tricky familial situations!). Over a meal. Nothing more than that.

I've done close to forty Thanksgivings in my life. The whole deal. Our Thanksgiving Day has had three fresh and honest meals -- a caky breakfast, a soupy lunch and then boom! Dinner!

All of my Thanksgivings have always had both daughters present (except for the couple of times when they have had no daughters present). But this year, my younger girl and her husband are visiting his parents and so Ed and I have just the young family with us. Well now, that still calls for a full Thanksgiving cooking extravaganza!

How does a Thanksgiving week look for you? For me, it follows a pattern:

Saturday begins the menu preparation and the listing of ingredients. This is the tough part. Decisions! Uff! At the end of the day I throw up my hands and am ready to declare that we shall be eating Subway sandwiches on Thursday.

Sunday is farmhouse cleaning time and a return to menu planning. At the end of the day, all is in place.

Monday is my rest day. The menu planning wiped me out.

Tuesday -- today -- is the shopping day. I'll come back to this in a bit.

Wednesday used to be my shopping day, but that was at a time when I was much younger and much more insane. I believed I could get it all prepped and cooked in a day and a half.  Now, I prefer not to succumb to the mad adrenaline rush, the long night, the frantic juggling of many preparations at once. Too much like my years working in a restaurant.  Forget it. I prefer a Zen-like calm. Wednesday, therefore, has to be a full blown cooking day. (The young family helps by taking on Snowdrop care. For me, the day has to be all about food.)

Thursday, well, it's THE day. Success is measured by when dinner is finally served. The goal is early. History has variously treated that goal.

Friday is blessed leftovers day.

Post Thanksgiving Saturday is for reflection.

Post Thanksgiving Sunday -- I'm onto other things by then.

And so now you know: if it's Tuesday, it must be shopping day. Immediately after breakfast.





I proceed carefully, slowly and with a bit of a choke in my throat. After all, I've done this so many times before! The bird, the cranberries, the bundles of herbs -- these are Thanksgiving items!

Today is only the second craziest grocery shopping day of the year and so the shelves are stocked and everyone is trying very hard to be super friendly and forgiving. Oh, no, that was my fault! Yes yes, she was before me! Please, you take that! Lovely.  May we carry this attitude with us all year long.

I return to the farmhouse, Ed carries in the loaded bags and I apply all my ingenuity to fitting everything into our fridge.

Then I head out to pick up Snowdrop.

She hasn't napped, but she is one delightful child!





Since it is her teacher's last day today, I ask for a photo. The little guy to the left is Snowdrop's pal -- he wants to be included. Why not!






When we are ready to leave, she asks for time at the playground. This is a tough call. The temps have been dropping all day long and it is now right around freezing. With a hefty wind. I try to satisfy her with a few minutes in her school yard.







Not enough. Since I have to pick up our CSA spinach share, I suggest that she and I pop over to see if the polar bears at the zoo are happy, what with the cold weather we've had this month. (The zoo is a block away from my CSA pick up place.)

Snowdrop is apprehensive. Zoo? All those fierce animals? Grandma, I only like the animals that are behind glass. I'm a little scared of the others. Can we go to the playground?

I smile at that. The girl loves her playground. Who am I to stand in her way...















I thought that the park by the zoo would be less windy than our usual playground by the lesser lake. Not so. It is cold! After a short while, she is ready to head for the farmhouse.

Puzzles with words! (She'll take any kind of puzzles. Seriously, the girl loves puzzles!)











Oh oh. She has discovered my Moroccan cookies! She does not hesitate to steal one. And then another...






We're playing school. Recess time. Grandma, someone has put mud there. You can't go there.






These make believe games are never serious and sure enough, she collapses into bouts of hilarity.





She cannot contain herself.

That is the best way a grandma can hand over her charge to the parents when they come to pick up their girl -- a girl dissolved in giggles.

And now I must focus on food. Tomorrow, it's all about food. Every waking minute. Yeah!

heat wave?

... and if we are ever to do any more work outside, it should be today, because really, it's going to climb, climb to the upper 40sF (maybe 9 or even 10C) and we'll never see such warmth again, or at least not until spring, so today we have to do everything, everything! Mow lawn, trim off garden, pick up a million lotus seed pods, all of it! This morning!

(This over breakfast...)





And I am in part correct. Today, it is at least a dozen degrees warmer than any day last week. But the wind!

Still, we head out.

Cheepers follow.






And we work. We do nearly all of it.

We're set for winter.






And then I pick up Snowdrop.

Because it is very windy, I am reluctant to take her to the park by the lake. The gusts are always at least three times as forceful there.

No problem! She is delighted to swing in her school playground for a while...





And if she chooses the school playground, her buddy (who happens to leave at the same time) is sure to follow.

(In this photo, there is this joke between them about cats rubbing chins... I suppose you had to be 2 or 3 years old to appreciate the hilarity of it.)






When her pal leaves, she settles into baking birthday cakes in the sand play area. Here, she is waiting for one to be ready.





I think she'd be there still, baking cakes, waiting, baking the next one and the one after had I not prodded her to call it quits.


We pull up to the farmette. Ed is raking debris in the courtyard. Oh, Snowdrop cannot say no to that! She herself doesn't like to use the rake, but she works the broom to the max!






The two of them go at it...






... until I remind her that there's stuff to do inside.






For example, there is this wee little keyboard...

Predictably, she loves "playing" it.






And she especially loves positioning Ed by the xylophone and having me bring out the guitar. We are a band! A musically challenged band perhaps, but what we lack in skill, we make up with enthusiasm!






(Pause for putting her babies to sleep upstairs.)





And then we draw, color and scribble until her parents come to pick her up.

Tomorrow, the theme of foods takes over. If you have a very low interest in how people go nuts over preparing a meal (or two or three) for this coming Thursday, take an Ocean pause for three days because I assure you, food thoughts and ideas will dominate for now. It's inevitable.

Sunday

We continue to be many degrees below normal. Plenty of sunshine, but cold. Just a tiny, wobbly step above freezing.

After a thorough farmhouse cleaning, Ed and I sit down to breakfast and review our options.





The grass needs to be cut. Not so much because we are looking for that perfect grass length, but because the maples have shed their leaves and if we do not either rake (how tedious!) or mow (shredding the leaves to smithereens), the grass will not survive, come springtime.

Ed goes out to start the tractor-mower. What a surprise -- it's dead. I turn to baking cookies.

(The ingredients are a giveaway, no? Moroccan semolina almond lemon cookies.)





(Ready to bake!)





(baked!)






(Ready to eat!)






Ed has been volunteering his labor at a maker space downtown (it's where people come together to build stuff) and he goes off to work there. I have only one requirement for the both of us this afternoon: that we take a walk. Somewhere.

But where?

We live near a city rich with urban parks. This one, by Lake Menona, offers a number of trails.






Some of them take you down to the star attraction here -- the lake. With, of course -- the view.






The lake isn't anywhere near frozen yet, but there are signs of winter. Look! Thick icicles dangling from a fallen limb...






If you want proof of our current winter madness, you need only cast a glance at the shoreline here...






Still, there's a hazy sun and a lovely path that beckons. We feel energized!





It's one of those rare Sundays where the parents of Snowdrop have evening work obligations and so the young family is not with us for dinner. Ed suggests we buy a Subway sandwich and split it for our evening meal.

Perhaps I should have nodded a yes to that. I am right in the thick of planning the Thanksgiving meal. But I could not do it. On a late fall Sunday, the smell of food baking, cooking, percolating is heavenly! Chicken in garlic, olive oil, lemon and rosemary... Potatoes roasted at the side... a veggie, a salad... This is what makes a Sunday evening special.

The crazy busy week begins tomorrow. Tonight, the farmhouse is quiet. Peaceful. Getting ready for what's ahead.

Saturday

Remember the ad about how you can "let your fingers do the walking through the Yellow Pages?" No need to go from store to store in search of just the right sweater for your sweetie. Call first! Spare yourself the bother of shopping. Or at least searching. Use the phone book's Yellow Pages!

Ha! What an old fashioned concept!

Or is it?

Several weeks ago, I was telling Snowdrop's teacher (the same one that is leaving to teach in Egypt) that I had purchased something online for the little girl and it didn't fit. She thought for a while, then said -- you know, I don't think I have ever bought anything online.

That gave me pause.

I would say that apart from grocery shopping, 90% of my buying is with the help of the internet. Sure, I don't have stores within walking distance. Would it be different if I didn't live in the country?

Shopping in Wisconsin at this time of the year is not pleasant. The stores are full of very grumpy people (I did not bother detailing on Ocean my encounters with unhappy shoppers during last week's purchase of a new computer -- so much angst, so little patience!). And then there is the weather...

This morning, for example, we woke up to the first (wet, but very real) snow outside.






Even the birds were surprised.






Oh, sure, it melted quickly enough...






But man oh man, it felt cold! And dark enough that we ate breakfast with lamps glowing.






(The chickens took it in stride.)





And so Ed and I proceeded to snuggle in comfortable reclining positions in the living room. He worked, I shopped. Online, checking off holiday gift after gift, indeed -- letting my fingers do the walking.


There was a welcome break. Right around noon, I was to meet the young couple and my daughter's super awesome visiting college friend (and various important to this group others) for brunch downtown.

I adore my daughters' friends and especially the ones who have been part of the fabric of their lives for the past decade, or even more. In my experience, these young people are engaged. They haven't given up on the world -- they still have passion for it. Too, they're funny. As are my girls and their husbands: they share a take on life that is uniquely different from ours. And I love it!







There is beauty to this day for sure. At brunch. But too, spending that quiet afternoon afterwards at the farmhouse: Ed is clicking away on his machine, I'm clicking away on mine. It's warm inside. At some later hour he says -- look outside! The sky is so pretty!  And I say -- let's order sushi for dinner. And we do. And it is so delicious! I throw out some words about how good this day is. Ed responds with his usual "alright, gorgeous." I smile. Secretly, he does too.

Friday

This one short paragraph will give you a fine idea of our day:

It is late afternoon. It feels dark, though it's not really the dark of dusk. Rain clouds have moved in and they are relentlessly pounding rain on the windshield of my car. The wipers are going at full speed. Both the splash of rain and the rhythm of the wipers have put the little one (who is strapped in to the car seat behind me) to sleep. It's been a very long week with no naps to speak of. She has rallied. She has excelled at maintaining a good outlook on life. In school, the teachers tell me that during naptime, they will sit next to her, but instead of rubbing her back, gently, soothingly, she insists on rubbing theirs, gently, soothingly.

But now, in the car, there is no more oomph left. She falls asleep.

How did it come to this? Well, remember, it's Friday.

Morning: I must grocery shop. But I am really struggling to rev up my motor this morning. In the middle of the night, Ed and I both heard a mouse behind the bedroom wall. You cannot trap a mouse behind a wall. The only solution is to bang on the wall a number of times and eventually the animal will retreat. So I banged. Ed, working downstairs until the wee hours of the night, commented -- I may as well come up and join you. Neither of us are sleeping much tonight.

Indeed.

Breakfast. Yawn.....





Grocery shopping... And then I pick up the little girl.

It's a tough pick up even under the best of times (meaning even if she, the napless girl and me, the slumberless Gaga, were fully rested). We'd just found out that her teacher (adored by her, by me, by her parents) is departing to be with her family in Egypt. As I hang on to a squirmy Snowdrop, I also want to tell this wonderful teacher that she has been a pillar for Snowdrop (and thus for,me, Gaga, who picks the girl up each day), but words fail.

And the little girl knows none of this. She is just antsy to go go go and of course, the rain begins right about now, lightly at first, but still, dark, dank, cold wet -- hey, little girl, want to go to the mall?

I thought she'd remember the mall. We'd been there maybe two or three times in her life. But she is puzzled. I talk of stores and possible Christmas decorations. Of warm inside spaces. Of my big need to find a pair of farmhouse mittens for her that fit. (And while we're there, might I return ones that do not?) So we set off. Ever the adventurous spirit, Snowdrop is curious. Somewhat excited.

First stop Gap. The mitten hunt is on.

The last time I was in this store with Snowdrop, I went in, she touched this and that, I got what I needed, we left.

That was when she was LITTLE. Now she is full of opinions.
Grandma, I like this pink cap.
I'm not looking for a cap.... 
And these mittens. 
They're too small, how about these?
No, I like the pink ones!

Did I think this would be easy?

I find a table with crayons. Snowdrop, can I interest you in pursuing an art project of your dreams? How would you like to color in the letters of the word GAP?

(Excited)






(Wait, can I color in this book too?)






(It's getting to be a long day...)






After, I do my returns (quickly, while she munches on a croissant) and then I take her to the Mall's special Christmas corner where, you guessed it, there is a Santa.

Now, I have no great desire to put her on his knee. Snowdrop doesn't really know who Santa is and what his business plans are. Too, the whole thing about paying a lot of money for a photo that will likely be stupid doesn't grab me. Still, I want to see her reaction to this big white bearded guy (she wont remember that she did sit on his knee last year).

She turns her face away and hides it into the stroller.

I ask her -- you didn't like the looks of that Santa guy?
Oh, I did like him.
Go figure.

We turn toward a store that surely will have Christmas decorations (she loves the glitter and shine of this holiday!) -- Pottery Barn.

Snowdrop is delighted.






Hard to lure her away from the millions of fragile holiday pieces around a tree, but eventually I do, with the promise of a visit to a mall toy store, ostensibly in search of a new coloring book.

Of course, once I am done negotiating with her, it's more than just "a coloring book." That's okay, I truly do believe that the kids' size snow shovel will come in handy.





We drive home in blinding rain. She sleeps. I dream of sleeping.

Soon after, she goes home. I miss her already! 

so how do you feel about Thursday?

Each day of the week has its flora. And its place in your heart. Some people hate Mondays. Some people feel that Wednesdays are just so blah. When I was little I did not like Sundays. In my more adult years, Saturdays were unreasonably tough. And so on.

But what about Thursdays?

I think Snowdrop and I are on the same page about this day: we're hanging in there, but the realization of a week gone by begins to seep in. For her, if she hasn't napped all week, she begins to feel more fragile. For me, it's not about sleep, but about getting things done.

Once again this morning was technology oriented. I had signed up for a (free) online tutorial on how to get the most out of my (new) computer. After breakfast, of course.






Much more useful were the hours Ed and I spent on trying to figure out the interplay between my laptop and various web browsers (far trickier than either of us thought).

But note the reference to "hours." Another day, another set of hours dedicated to technology.

Still, there were lovely sparks. We learned stuff about computers that neither of us had known (and that's saying a lot for Ed). And for once I felt I hadn't just purchased something that I would never quite understand.

Too, I worked on tech stuff in the bleakest part of the day. By early afternoon, the sun was starting to poke through and though it never climbed out of the low 30sF (above 2 or 3C), nonetheless, the absence of a wind made the day, well, not too bad!

(Cheepers, following me to the mailbox...)






(Winter blue skies are exhilarating!)






When I pick up Snowdrop, I'm not quite sure whether it is warm enough for the outdoors, but the girl settles the question for me quickly. She begs to go to the school playground.





... As does her school buddy.

They are a delightful twosome!






True, her school pal does decide to shed all outer garments, but I think he is just trying to impress the rest of us. Very shortly afterwards, he is ready to give up on the great outdoors, whereas Snowdrop keeps on chugging along...






Moreover, afterwards, when her friend has long ago retreated to the warmth of the indoors, Snowdrop insists that we go to the park playground. I acquiesce. Off we go!






She is totally delighted.






The lake waters are still. The sun is fading, but even small bits of its rays make a difference.






Happy Gaga. Happy girl indeed!






At the farmhouse, after the initial "I'm hungry!"...






... she settles into the cozy part of life: lots and lots and lots of books, followed by a brisk game of ball and finally -- drawing.





It was a good way to work through any issues that a Thursday, especially a napless Thursday might present.