Magoo's Vegetarian Thanksgiving...

I often wonder why strange things happen to ME.  Or, if maybe I just notice things more than other folk and think it funny enough to laugh aloud or to write it down.  Thanksgiving has past, and for the most part for me, it was uneventful.  At least in the context of messing up too badly. 

However, we did basically have a "vegetarian" traditional Thanksgiving meal.  We are not vegetarians--oh, far from it. This happened by chance--again by my miscalculations. 

On Sunday, I went to the store at about 10 PM to buy all the traditional Thanksgiving items.  I had procrastinated on this because I just wasn't in the mood, and secretly was hoping someone (anyone) would insist we come over for "the big meal".  But,no. Now, it was indeed the "last minute".  I bought a 12 pound butterball turkey and let him thaw. 

I had to "baby sit" the 2 year old and the Octos on Wednesday night after a short week at work that seemed very long.  The deal was that the teenagers would make the side dishes at my house--I would cook the turkey at Grandmas. (and also  keep Hannah, Mom and Dad from digging their fingers in the snack "goodies"). We were to meet at 3:30 at the Grandparents house and eat, eat, eat.

The turkey was in the oven at 11:30.  "Perfect!" I thought.  "I can nap until 3 and get up in a flurry and make it look like I have been working so very hard.  Why, Mom and Dad, and even the baby will nap!" 

Well, nap we did.  At 3, I jumped up, set the table in record time and had everything ready for the sides.  I had never checked on the turkey.

We got everything hot and ready, said the blessing--Hannah wanted to "talk to Jesus" as the lead. 

I pulled out the turkey, pressed my best knife into the breast and blood squirted out of the leg joints.  Everybody cringed, and made wrinkled faces at this.  I let out my infamous "nervous giggle" and quickly placed the turkey back in the oven and resumed my place at the table and began to pass the sweet potatoes, etc. until it was all served. 

The turkey was really done about an hour and a half after everybody was stuffed from all the other items--and pie. 

So, we had vegetables--lots of them, relishes, deviled eggs, home made rolls and pie.  But no turkey.  When you think about it, this was one of the first Thanksgivings that I did not cook the meal--(my part didn't cook).  I only cooked the leftovers, and we have plenty of them. 

I am not sure if the oven was working properly, or I just wasn't familiar enough with Mom's stove.  Maybe the turkey wasn't fully thawed because I procrastinated.  Or, just maybe the nap slowed everything down.  I just don't know. 

What I do know is that despite all the drama of this year and the things that have happened to us, we are still blessed above all.  We still have the extended family and cling to each other for encouragement.   I feel good since I have lost  weight, and I think I look happier than I did earlier this year--I have turned the corner.  God himself has comforted and blessed me and my family even though we deserve nothing of the sort. 

And we live in America--even better, Magoo and family live in the South!  I wouldn't want it any other way. 

AMEN

AHHH!!! Philadelphia--the "City of Brotherly Love"  It is truly  like no other.  I recently found unexpected compassion in a humorous way there last week when I was there for a convention.  Here's what happened:

I messed up.  I thought the convention began on Friday--not Saturday, so I arranged my flight to arrive on Thursday evening so I wouldn't miss any of the conference and I'd have plenty of time to "pace my self".  But I didn't take time to have my hair done--I really meant to--but I ran out of time, shopping for clothes that fit me (so I wouldn't have a repeat of my previous blog entry).  My darkened roots would be OK, I thought, IF I could keep my hair " fluffed enough"  with some of my  heated curlers I dug up from the 70's while moving my 25 years worth of junk out of the attic.   " Nevermind", I thought to myself.  I just didn't take the time to have my hair highlighted and cut. This would just be a challenge, but not a big deal. 

Because I arrived a day early, I thought it appropriate that I help set up the booth in the big convention hall.  The Marketing Manager, really appreciated it and I felt I had  to earn  my keep.  Besides, I would need a good excuse for being arriving in the city a day  too early. 

The convention hall was dusty and dirty. Most of the people there had scraggly beards, dirty, sweaty shirts and rough safety shoes that looked much too big for their feet.  I felt sorry for them, except I know they make really good Union wages, bless their hearts.     

Suddenly, my T- shirt and jeans got snagged on a crate that was in the aisle--I have no idea WHY someone left it there, knowing that I might walk by with a stack of brochures and couldn't see the wire staples protruding out.  But they did.  At first, I thought I was being grabbed by an unfriendly troll that was waiting to grab my purse. I reeled away from the snag, lunging away in a half stumble-run, tucking my purse under my arms like I was a lineman recovering a fumbled football.  As I was running away from the invisible "attacker", I looked back and saw the crate with a jagged piece of my new jeans dangling from  its corner.  I  realized that it was not an attacker, but not in time to keep from running directly and flatly into a 14 foot display wall that came careening down between me and the crate.  My t shirt sleeve came off in its entirety with the wall, and pulled the rest of the shirt down toward my waist down to my underwire bra. The brochures fell like a stack of cards in a 52 card pickup game around my feet. 

The Union Steward asked me to leave and I was more than happy to.  I was now dirty, ragged,bleeding,  thirsty and embarrassed.  I bought a bottle of water in a vending machine so I wouldn't have to face any cashiers.

I decided to walk back to my hotel, as I was too embarrassed to try to catch a cab.  I really don't think one would have stopped for me anyway--I was a mess.  Then, I received a call from my family at home.  They were fighting and screaming.  The call ended  when the battery died in the midst of the over-used "you are the worst Mother ever, I cant wait to get away from you forever, and you will rot in a nursing home before I'd bother to bring you a bar of soap" argument.  I have heard it all before--teenage temper tantrums.  They do this on the phone when you are 500 or more miles from home mostly because you aren't expecting it and they know that  if you were there,  you would backhand them or worse--remove the car keys and throw them in the lake. 

I was speechless-- and just started crying.  I couldn't help it.  I was exhausted, dirty, ragged and most of all, my phone was dead so I couldn't call them back to lay a  major guilt trip on them for saying those nasty things.  Nor could I call my brother to go over there and get the car keys and throw them in the lake in my absence. 

I finished my bottle of water as I sadly walked through the "City Hall".  This is a magnificent building full of wonderful architectural intrigue.  I looked up and studied all the gargoyles and curly carvings, as well as the inscriptions on each of the 4 sides of the quadrangle.  The big clock nearby struck 7 and it was getting dark. I threw the empty water bottle in the trash can at the corner in front of the great hall.

 I felt better.  I marveled at the magnificence of the city and paused for a moment listening to all the city-music of cars, people, machines, distant trains and the faint smell of new rain on asphalt.   I had barely noticed that a misty rain had begun when I was on the phone.  I saw in the reflection of Macy's window that my hair had gotten matted down by the mist and was stringy on my dirty neck. 

I patted my pocket--MY CELL PHONE WAS GONE!!!!  I retraced my steps, frantically remembering each pause and talking to myself.  "I must have thrown it away with the empty water bottle!" I realized.  I ran to the trash can and began trying desperately  to fish out the bottle and to  see the bottom of the can.  I asked a passerby if he had a flashlight or a penlight I could use to look in the trash can for a personal item.   He gave me a dollar. Another passerby gave me a dollar, and another,  while a woman with a child grabbed the child and crossed over to another sidewalk. 

At first, I didn't get it.  Then, I remembered my matted, discolored  hair, my dirty,  torn shirt, jeans and my tear streaked face.  I was still  touching the trash can in which I had been digging frantically as I talked to myself trying to reenact my every action. 

At the curb edge of the trash can was something shiny--MY CELL PHONE!!!!!!  HOORAY!!!!

Then, I counted the stranger's money and laughed out loud.  I had $4.50 through the generosity of Philadelphians who had pity on a poor country girl from Tennessee.

Well, Magoo never changes in some aspects....I" overexposed myself" again in public. 

This time, it didn't phase me as much, partially because I have come to expect such crazy things to happen to me that don't happen to "normal" folk and partially because I am medicated and the medicine keeps me from over- reacting to many things that i would otherwise.  Also, in view of the other things going on in my life, a simple "exposure" is not humiliating anymore..Humiliation and disgrace are relative you see. 

Since my life was turned inside and out last March/April I have been going through the proverbial  knothole.  Not voluntarily, but at least I get to choose to go through the knothole backwards or forwards, but still i am going through the knothole.  During the hottest summer we have seen ever in Tennessee, I  worked more than 240 hours moving 25 years worth of "stuff" out of the house (commonly known as the Money Pit), and repairing, painting, cleaning the empty pit so that a realtor could sell the house.  It paid off, and the house was sold in about 3 weeks, and I got close to the asking price.  This all in a very "down, down" housing selling  market.  I believe God worked it out for me.  Still, it was physically exhausting and emotionally excruciating.  I was able to continue my job  and there were some other challenges along the way (I am still the mother of teenagers, remember). 

Well, I lost about 30 pounds, and really didn't notice the impact this would have until one day we decided to celebrate our progress (i try to take victories where i can) and go to P.F. Chang's for lunch.  I put on a "swirly-type" skirt which I noticed was rather loose on my waist and hung down across my hips.  "HA!" I thought.  "No one will know that this is not supposed to be a 'hip-hugger' skirt--I'll assume everyone will think it is the latest fashion".  

While waiting for our name to be called, I sat on their velour-covered bench.  Its soft fuzziness felt good on the back of my legs as I rested.  When they called our name, I stood up quickly--ready for the food I had been smelling and thinking about while sitting there. 

My skirt clung to the bench, and fell around my knees, while I stepped toward the Hostess.  Mercifully, I was wearing my "good underwear" and not my favorite blue cotton polka-dot ones.

Employing the "Magoo Technique" (honed by many years of practicing recovery from crazy, embarrassing, bizarre occurrences of everyday Magoo life), I grabbed the skirt waistband, flipped it up in one fluid motion as I raised my arms as if to wave at an acquaintance across the restaurant.  The rapid flailing of arms and a quick wave of the hands while flashing a broad, familiarizing smile made everybody look at a couple being seated over by the opposite window instead of my pink panties.  The Host saw the whole thing, and he realized what had just happened,  but didn't let on. 

My daughter said, "Do you know those people over there?" 

"No, not at all," I said.  The Host smiled and poured the ice water in the glasses.  To the side and under his breath where my family and guests couldn't hear him, he whispered to me with a covert wink, "Now, THAT was amazing!"

TIME FOR ME TO FLY

(REO Speedwagon)

I've been around for you
I've been up and down for you
But I just can't get any relief
I've swallowed my pride for you
I've lived and lied for you
But you still make me feel like a thief

You got me stealin' your love away
'Cause you never give it
Peeling the years away
And we can't relive it
I make you laugh
And you make me cry
I believe it's time for me to fly

You said we'd work it out
You said that you had no doubt
That deep down we were really in love
Oh, but I'm tired of holding on
To a feeling I know is gone
I do believe that I've had enough

I've had enough of the falseness
Of a worn out relation
Enough of the jealousy
And the intoleration
I make you laugh
And you make me cry
I believe it's time for me to fly

Time for me to fly
Oh, I've got to set myself free
Time for me to fly
And that's just how it's got to be
I know it hurts to say goodbye
But it's time for me to fly

Oh, don't you know it's...

It's time for me to fly