Thanksgiving week: four days before, and one day after

We'd stayed up late into the night piling on stories that you cant ever fully review in the course of a busy week. It's heaven to have such leisure with your grownup kids. It leads me to push Ed again on the subject of finishing the construction of the writers shed. Once the second grandchild is born to the Chicago family, it will be a tight squeeze in the two bedroom farmhouse. Ed, of course, is anything but keen on the idea of undertaking a construction project of that magnitude. Nonetheless, we toss around the idea periodically until it fizzles. And then comes back again. 

 

This morning, aka "the morning after" began when Primrose, our youngest visitor from Chicago, nudged us to get up and get on with the day.

We had a quick breakfast of left-over croissants...

We played. Or, more accurately, she played for us.

But very quickly, the young family had to go off on their round of visits: old high school friend, my mother...  

By noon, they were back again and Primrose and I took a walk to the barn to search for eggs.

At the house, they read books, I fix a frittata.

This cheeper egg dish is such a farmhouse staple that really, I could do one with eyes closed. Today's had tatsoi, leeks and mushrooms. And of course, a small mountain of Farmer John's cheese.

And yes, it did feel like the day after Thanksgiving. There was left over pie, there were chicken bones to shuffle around in the fridge (waiting for Ed to turn into a soup). To top it off, I did my first Christmassy thing: I brought out four candles I had purchased from different candle makers (each claiming to provide a whiff of the quintessential holiday smell of pine). They voted which was the most authentically Christmassy. (Brooklyn Candles, appropriately called "Christmas tree.")

 

 

 

And then they had to leave. The next time I see them, the family will have grown (or be in the throes of growing!). 

My Thanksgiving holiday with them has ended, even as the second Thanksgiving, the one with the rest, is still in its earliest stage.

In the meantime, just to tie these days together, in the evening, Snowdrop, Sparrow and Sandpiper, along with parents, come over for supper. So much to review! (Do you love this as much as we do? Reliving the best moments by rehashing them at least one extra time?) 

Toward the end of the evening, my daughter picks up a book I had left for future perusal. Snowdrop noticed. And that's how we then moved to an hour where my daughter did a masterful job of explaining an important chapter of American history.

Dishes done, families back at their homes, and me, I'm now on the couch with Ed. Feet up. Definitely feet up. And I keep thinking that we are one lucky family. We have each other.

 

With love.

Thanksgiving week: all in the family

So much to this day! Our Thanksgiving gathering continues, even as it has to be still not entirely in the way that it would have been before the pandemic. With one super pregnant daughter and two unvaccinated little kids from different households and both attending schools, we are not yet ready to all sit down around a table inside. Nonetheless, we can do so much! And it seems this glorious weekend we do it all. 

Let's break it down a little:

The morning of the sleepover -- Primrose, here, from Chicago.

 

(Every child here has loved every single toy food here. Primrose is no exception.)

(Heading out)

Going to Madison Sourdough bakery with grandma.

Meet up with cousins and aunt and uncle at the Arboretum. With pain au chocolat.

Primrose is reunited with mom and dad.

(A hike)

The whole gang.

The four grandkids: Sandpiper is astonished.

The four grandkids: Sandpiper is delighted.

Back at the farmhouse now: preparing Thanksgiving dinner number one: my prep starts with the pie. Melissa Clark-- your advice was great. Pie, loaded with nearly four pounds of honeycrisp apples, spiced with cinnamon, ginger and nutmeg, is delicious.

Primrose paints.

Her talent is obvious.

Predinner snacks.

A hug for little sister.

The threesome, or maybe we should start saying foursome?

The chicken, stuffed with wild mushrooms and sage.

Getting the meal going...

And now it's almost midnight, but I'm hanging on to my last moments with my youngest girl and her husband before things get crazy busy for all of us.

A beautiful day. I am so full of gratitude and love...

Thanksgiving week

It begins today for us. Thanksgiving week. Much has to be accomplished! I'll bypass the explanations and concentrate on a pictorial message: of time with family in funny, and reliably familiar, sometimes convoluted, always wonderful ways.

"Family? We're a family too, no? Just a chicken family!"

Let's stick with the people family.

On a very pretty November day, where not all the leaves have left the trees yet!

Breakfast is a muddle. With Ed. Without Ed. Then with him again. It's complicated.

The task for this morning is to start in on Melissa Clark's apple pie. I'm sure one million Americans are making Melissa Clark's apple pie this Thanksgiving (she's the food person at the NYT), because she actually has a novel suggestion and after you've been baking for many years, you get excited when someone says something new about a standard dish. (And what could be more standard here then apple pie, right?) Her suggestion? Cook up the spiced apples before putting them into the pie shell. It will keep the crust from getting soggy. 

 

So, I precooked and pre-made the shell, to be baked tomorrow, so that it's bubbly hot and fragrant for our family feast number one.

The goal then was to pick up Snowdrop at school, deliver her home, and return to the farmette where the young Chicago family should be arriving. Good goal. Impossible to realize. For the first time EVER, I sat on the Beltline Highway for close to an hour, stuck in a traffic jam created by an accident up ahead. Instead of being first in line to pick up Snowdrop, I was last in line. Luckily, the first graders are picked up in a shorter line, so I wasn't terribly late. 

Quick, Snowdrop, here's your fruit snack! We're going home!

Bye, see you tomorrow! Turn around, drive back to the farmette where.... drum roll ....

... the young family has arrived.

The goal is for the parents to go off alone for a last overnight before the arrival of you know who. (Primrose will stay with us at the farmhouse.)

Once they leave, Primrose and I concentrate on serious play. It always involves dress up. Always that puffy dress pulled over her usual clothing. And eventually she settles in to do art. She has her mother's talent  and the ability to concentrate on her design until every last little space is filled in.

In the evening, we do the usual.

Like Sparrow, she insists that she no longer needs the booster seat.

Tradition has it that there will be popcorn and a movie after dinner. Tradition also has it that the movie viewing is a mess of trying to bring up a film that refuses to stream. And thus tradition has it that the sleepover child goes to bed very very late.

And so does her grandma. And that's not unusual either. However old I am, I still like to stay up nearly as late as Ed. Well, maybe not until 3 or 4 in the morning. After all, I have a little one who is bound to wake up just about the time the rooster starts crowing.

 

Thursday

There is a ladder precariously angled from step to the ceiling over our stairs. The weather outside is bracing (aka cold). And I have a morning appointment with an ENT, so that I can get clearance to have oral surgery in order to get tooth implants. So, a fun day fur us here at the farmette!

I don't really mind any of it. It's all mightily amusing. Ed has had to apply numerous coats of paint to patch up the ceiling and only halfway into the process did he conclude that maybe he should have sealed the ceiling first with a primer. I mean, whoever uses eight coats of paint to cover a stain?! But, too late now. He is moving along, laying on coat after coat after coat, until the stains are no longer visible. 

 

 

 

And the weather? Well, it's what we have in November. Caps, gloves and warm jackets were invented to make us feel cozy despite any winter blast. Finally -- the ENT? Well now, that proved to be a lovely visit. Too bad it didn't provide the coveted thumbs up, so that the oral surgeon can go ahead and blast away at my sinuses. The ENT doc smiled a patronizing smile (directed at the dental guy, not me) and said -- I can't rely on his (inferior) scans. I need to have you get nice, detailed CT scans before I can give you your thumbs up.

So, my dear Doctor, are you telling me I may have sinus blockage problems?

Oh, probably not. But I need a medical opinion of a radiologist to tell you that for sure (and not the inferior one of an oral surgeon).

So, now I have to go get a "real" scan, so that I can get an ENT to sign off on a procedure done by an oral surgeon, to get me ready for an implant so that I can have the dentist put a crown in. I'm counting a half a dozen various visits just to get this show moving along! All for a tooth.

By afternoon, I am more than ready to visit with Snowdrop.

Pick up at school? Well, she is well covered against the chilly winds.

I ask her if she is at all cold playing outside at recess. She tells me -- only if she takes off her mask. Her nose gets cold then. Reflecting on that she says -- maybe I'll continue to bring a mask to school in the winter once Covid is over.

Despite the cold, on the walk from the car to the farmhouse, she is always without a jacket, cap, or scarf -- she claims she needs none of it.

After reading...

She works on her homework, then hits the art supplies.

And soon it is time to return home, where her two brothers are settling in for the evening. First, I greet Sandpiper. Can I do my usual photo?

Sparrow joins him.

For some bizarre reason, Lucas the cat decides that he really must be part of this scene. The kids love Lucas, despite the fact that he is old, he has absolutely dreadful health problems, and he is as shy as can be. Plus, one could argue that he isn't exactly cuddly. We're shocked that he even is here, ready to be photographed with the rest. Lucas is big on retreating and hiding.

And if the brothers plus Lucas are there, then Snowdrop cannot be left out.

My daughter is cooking dinner, their other two cats are taking in the smells of the kitchen at the same time that they are keeping an eye on the spirited shenanigans on the arm chair. Somehow I was reminded of the nursery rhyme -- kitts, cats, sacks, wives -- how many were going to St. Ives?

 

Tomorrow, my own cooking begins.