Maybe I can fake breaking an appendage.
I asked my husband to help me this year. I can’t stand Thanksgiving shopping let alone regular grocery shopping. This always leads to trouble; Dave shopping with me. Always.
Him and I cause a ruckus. We play-slap one another in the store, call each other “CLOWN!!!” and pretty much amuse ourselves during the perilous task of checking off my two page grocery list item by item. We amuse the employees at the store and this, in turn, gives us free samples.
I’m thinking they feel sorry for us. Wait. Let me rephrase. I’m thinking they feel sorry for ME.
We’ll walk down the aisles and when I stop to peruse which mayonnaise I want to take off the shelf, Dave will stand directly in front of me. He pretends to bang his head on the doors as he walks in and out of the place. People watch in horror waiting for a scream or burst of blood. Instead, he turns to me and says, “Way to go, Clown!”
Apparently, I caused his run-in with the door while I was three steps behind him. It’s MAGIC.
Grocery shopping for Thanksgiving is different than regular grocery shopping. Why? Because you’re buying for twelve other people rather than the two of you. I count my son twice because he’s a food wagon on wheels. The boy can put it away eating every three hours and then complaining with a whiny pitch, “I’m STAAAAARVING!”
You also purchase items you don’t normally purchase. Let’s say for instance, oh, I don’t know – Maybe a 25 pound turkey. I don’t normally purchase 25 pound turkeys every week because I would be super sick and tired of eating turkey every. Damn. Day. Cranberries? Who eats cranberries other than this time of year? Who? Let us not forget the famous green bean casserole with the fried onions on top. I don’t make this for my Thanksgiving meal, but millions of other Americans do. Why? Because the damn dish has been around since the 1940’s, and it’s a common staple next to mashed potatoes on the Thanksgiving table every year. People refuse to break from tradition which is tied to memories, just like my husband fake banging his head on a grocery store door and blaming me.
Next is yams. I won’t even eat a yam because I can’t stand the name. Why is it called a yam? Why not call it what it really is? A potato. A beet. A turnip. Whatever the hell it is, I’m not eating it. That wasn’t in my grocery cart, but canned pumpkin was. This is something else I would never purchase on a weekly basis. However, I love pumpkin pie. In fact, I’m the only one in the family who loves pumpkin pie, so I’ll have one slice and give the rest to the squirrels.
The worse part of the entire process is of course the sticker shock at the checkout counter. I really didn’t feel that my $5.00 in coupons would make much of a difference and, of course, I was correct in my assumption as I asked for a chair to sit down since I started to get dizzy and break out into a sweat when I saw the total damage.
In addition to the sticker shock, you get to drive home and put everything away in it’s proper place. Oh, and if you don’t have an extra refrigerator, you’re screwed. The whole putting-the-groceries-away-process takes about 30 minutes with two people – count on 40 minutes if you’re by yourself.
I wish I really had broken an appendage because I wouldn’t have had to put the groceries away. However, in about 2 – 3 days, I’ll start the whole prepping, baking process and then when the “Big Day” arrives, my husband and I will do what we love most: Cook an awesome Thanksgiving meal for our family.
It will take our boys ten minutes to wolf it down. As for me, I probably won’t even eat it. After cooking it all day long, I would no longer be hungry. Save some leftovers for me!!!!