An Alaskan Thanksgiving

Scenes from our house:

Thanksgiving Eve
I'm in complete freak-mode. I try to get every last thing done to prepare for Thanksgiving. I am chopping veggies, setting up card table and chairs, setting the table with the crystal and china, NOT ironing anything (thank you, Angie), vacuuming, dusting, picking up. Acting like a total freak.

John tries to convince me to just wait until tomorrow. I tell him, vehemently, "NO! I want to relax tomorrow, watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade that I seem to keep missing every year! I want to enjoy the actual day." He tells me he will mop the floor the next day. I do not believe him.

I continue on mixing, chopping, dicing, prepping, mopping, sweeping, cleaning toilets. I think I might have even been doing it in fast-forward speed. Acting like a total lunatic ala Bree on Desperate Housewives.

Thanksgiving Day
Ahhh! The house is clean! The coffee is brewed. The cooking is done. John has vacuumed the basement. He puts the drinks out to chill in our unheated "arctic entry." All I have to do is throw the turkey in the oven around 11 a.m. "See?" I tell John as he, Becca and I settle down on the couch in the living room to watch the parade. This is what I wanted. Becca curled up on me sleeping under a blanket, still acting cuddly. All three of us, sitting on the couch all warm and cozy. Peace.

Wait. Is that a rash? Another rash? On Becca's back? And, oh my god!, it is on her belly, neck and chest, too. Why is she so listless? Ohmigod! She must be allergic to penicillin!

Oh yes. We have a weird rashy outbreak which results in me calling our doctor at his home. On Thanksgiving Day. At 9 a.m.

But wait. It gets worse.

He says he needs to see her right away. Fast forward to us tossing Becca in the car and driving, panic-stricken, over to the doctor's house. On Thanksgiving Day. A 30- minute drive. One way. In the direction away from the hospital, John was nice enough to point out to me.

Of course, then the usual happens. The rash somehow mysteriously gets better on the car ride. The doctor doesn't seem concerned. He doesn't know if it is an allergic reaction but tells us to discontinue the penicillin and wait to see what happens.

I tuck my tail and we start the 30 minute drive back home where the parade is over and the turkey is looking pissed off that I neglected it. The first people arrive about an hour later.

Already exhausted, I say to John, "See? Isn't it good that I got everything done last night?" I may need to be slapped.

The rest of the day is a total blur of frenetic socializing, finding utensils and pans for various dishes, trying to cram things in the refrigerator, refilling drinks, prepping, cleaning, cooking, etc. The whole time Becca whines unless I hold her.

Thanksgiving tip #1: Holding babies while basting turkeys is not a good idea.

Martha Stewart doesn't know anything. That damn turkey was moist. And all I did was ignore it. I'm telling you. That is the secret.

The food was great. There was entirely too much. So much so that I kind of gag a little just thinking about it. The abundance was preposterous. But, oh so delicious. Everyone gorged themselves and we passed around a nice Beaujolais Villages bottle of wine. I had a few sips of it and didn't like it as well as the Pinot Noir we had just polished off. I heard someone saying that they didn't like vinegar, but I didn't exactly know why that subject came up until almost everyone was gone. Then, our friend, Chris, told me that the Beaujolais was just hideous. He couldn't believe I hadn't noticed.

I was mortified! I had about 10 other bottles of wine in the kitchen and here people were talking about the wine being vinegar! Nice touch.

Thanksgiving Tip #2: If you think the wine tastes like ass, ask your neighbor what they think instead of just shrugging and knocking back another gulp.

Becca was a total mess most of the day. She was crying and whining and being very needy. She went to bed for the night at 5:20 p.m. In fact, everyone seemed to be ready for bed right around then. The sun had been down for hours and people were yawning and thinking it was about 9 p.m. A very odd sensation!

After Chris and Robyn left, they called to tell us the aurora was out in force, so we suited up in our boots, pajams and parkas and stepped outside on the deck to check out nature's handiwork. It was spectacular. The lights were just blazing and moving from horizon to horizon. What a treat!

The Day After
I went to bed last night feeling sore and nauseated, and woke up this morning feeling awful. I don't know what is wrong, but whatever it is, it is totally kicking my ass. I think it must be the flu. It isn't a hangover, either, since I didn't consume enough to warrant one and it hasn't improved much. I could hardly stand up, eat or move all day--muscles aching, skin crawling. I wonder if this is how Becca has been feeling, because it would explain a lot. I pretty much just whined the whole day and didn't eat anything until dinner time.

Luckily, John took over and cleaned, walked the dog, put up window insulating sheeting, and hauled the trash. I hobbled my puny self into the arctic entry to find something to drink. While there I noticed the ice piling up on the walls as well as the source of the scary banging noises we kept hearing this morning:

Thanksgiving tip #3: Do not leave cans in an unheated structure when it is 25 below zero unless you like to watch things explode.

I am not cleaning it up until spring. I might freeze to death out there.