
Mom, preparing twin turkeys, Thanksgiving circa 1980
Thanksgiving–the national American celebration of the insulating properties of Turkey ,Tubers, Butter and Brown Sugar when consumed in combination and quantity. ah, my favorite holiday. our festivities will be taking place on Sunday rather than the usual Thursday because my sister Margaret and her hubby Ryan are flying down from London on Saturday.
a few amusing Thanksgiving Day memories:
how to know when the Butterball is done? Dad's beeper goes off, just at the right moment. every year, without fail. damn heart attacks and teenagers on motorbikes.
appropriate holiday attire: one year, mid-'80's, my then 9 or 10 year old sister Margaret, bless her heart, attended Thanksgiving day dinner at a friend of the family's house dressed, head to toe, as a pilgrim.![]()
teenager, making first Pumpkin Pie for family Thanksgiving meal: i hated pumpkin pie then (love it now) so i never took notice of exactly how it's done. i made a pie alright. bringing it to the table: "Didn't you make a PUMPKIN pie?" "Yes, just like you asked me to..there it is." "Um, it looks like a CHERRY or MINCEMEAT pie." "What are you talking about? It's pumpkin!" i know now that PUMPKIN pie is NOT supposed to have a crust ON TOP.
first Thanksgiving meal with the (ex)in-laws; the brother-in-law had just imported a new wife from Japan. we had SUSHI. for THANKSGIVING. wrong, just wrong.
making Thanksgiving feast for lonely-hearts friends when not able to get back home; asked everyone to drop off a contribution a few days before or a finished item the day of. so-and-so bring potatoes, so-and-so make a pie, etc. Brock's famous contribution? "Oh, I have a turkey, a bonus from work!" "Are you sure it will be big enough? We have ten people coming". "Oh yeah, no problem". Wednesday night: picking up said turkey. no way to really describe it here, but i think it was actually a two pound pressed-turkey breast. i've seen bigger pigeons.
hosting Thanksgiving dinner in new condo in need of renovation, kitchen entirely useless: made turkey and fixins at boyfriend's house, then carefully wrapped and transported entire meal for six in 1988 Dodge Colt and reheated, as needed, one dish at a time in microwave (the only functioning appliance in kitchen). plyed guests with booze so they wouldn't notice.
spent one Thanksgiving at home of generous friend (with her family in town special for the occasion): shopped for appropriate hostess gift..chose a very nice bottle of port for an after-dinner drink, thinking lots of other guests would bring standard wine. had bottle wisked away at door by unknown uncle, "We don't drink in this house." (um, she who invited me does, i know for a fact!) was shamed before even had coat off. never saw bottle of port again. still think of it fondly from time to time. wonder what it's up to these days?
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Mom turned her ankle and fell yesterday. no panic, but her ankle is in sad shape. note: when living in the south of France, where folks (and pharmacies) take their siesta seriously, never injure yourself between noon and 2:30.
funny pharmacy anecdote:
me, in fairly decent french: "Excusez moi Madame, blah blah….I'm looking for something to help my mother, she fell and turned her ankle."
Medicinal Madame: "Is it bad?" "Is it very fat?"
Me: "Um, yes." (i'm thinking that 'fat' means 'swollen' in this usage, yes?)
Medicinal Madame: "Is your mother very old?"
Me: "No, she's just 'so-so' old."
(imagine 'so-so' hand gesture included, it just came out that way, i swear!) -




going through the pics from my trip to Savannah, i've realized that The Custard hasn't really changed a bit in three years, aside from the occassional facial hair experiment and the recent bleach blonde madness. take a look.
cooking up some goodness: that is the exact SAME rooster t-shirt, still extra-extra large. i call it 'the dress'. the kitchen environment has improved, mainly because that's now mine (i am admittedly house proud).
that goofy face: every time someone tries to get a nice shot of us together, he makes that silly face! i have like two decent pic of us out of hundreds. ugh!
the beer: same beer, different day. though it must be said, he's upgraded from only the old school PBR (or Natty Light!) to others, including the occassional rather impressive Guiness. -
it's been kind of a crummy week at 10 rue Marceau. between me and Duncan, there's not a drop of wine or bit of chocolate safe in the house! and now, i've come over to Antibes (pottery class this morning, that cheered me up some) to upload shots of the new work, add some sorely needed pics to the blog..and what have i done? forgotten the *&^$&@ cord!!!
ugh.
must be the lousy weather..the gray skies, chill and damp and rain have really gotten everyone in a sour mood lately. yep, we'll blame it on that. -

This week's work thus far, click on title for info in Gallery:
left: Savannah Study, 18" x 24", acrylic on paper
right: Square One, 30" x 40", acrylic on canvas (apologies for glare, better photo to come) -



along the Croisette there are rows of freestanding cheerful blue chairs for enjoying the view and the sunshine (though not this month!)..i've always been so pleased to see a society so trusting as to have hundreds of moveable chairs about for the citizens to enjoy..and marveled that they didn't disappear by the dozens only to reappear on private terraces..until i tried to pick one up and adjust it's placement..they weigh an absolute ton! that's how they do it, forget trust! -
Mom misses me! i didn't see her at all this week, nary a phone call as she pointed out..in an effort to force myself to adjust to Cannes, to get out there and find things to love about it like i did in Antibes. and it was successful..i've been out and about much more this week and am liking this new town more each day. but, moms will be moms (or more accurately, my mom will never pass up a chance to visit the casino), so she popped over this afternoon after the afore-mentioned rugby match to spend the afternoon with me and Liz. a great lunch (it was warm and sunny enough to eat outside!), some shopping, a quick stop at the slots, and a coffee chat with Duncan 'round the kitchen table. i scored a new purse for my growing continental collection as an early birthday gift and we discovered Cannes' answer to the 'hardware-kitchensink-everything-you-didn't-know-you-needed' store just around the corner.
oh, and we payed through the nose (Monsieur Fluff 'n' Fold is cute, but 9 euros?!) to have Duncan's sheets washed and dried at the laundrette (no machine in the apt.) after Miss Ruby had an 'accident' last night. i think she was trying to tell me and Liz that she wasn't happy about being left out of girls night. -
i was spectator to a strange and beautiful thing today. at 9:30 in the morning, on a Saturday morning no doubtedly foggy for some, a group- nearly a crowd- gathered downstairs outside the doors of Morrison's Irish Pub, waiting for the dog-tired bartenders to arrive (which they finally did with two minutes to spare) so they could watch the match on the big screen tv. 'the match', by the way was no ordinary game. it was the The Rugby World Cup..England vs. Australia. now, most know that the last 'cup' i watched had noodles in it and the last time i used the term 'vs.', i was signing divorce papers. so, it must be said that i went with an open mind (and not a book this time…should have known that starter marriage was doomed at the first SuperBowl party invitation) and a keen hope to glean something out of the experience. (at the very least to understand a few of the strange sounding terms). and i was rewarded..there's this player, (the kicker?), a Johnny Wilkinson–what a creature! i may get into this rugby thing.
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roomie Duncan has discovered that when one glances out the kitchen window, say while having the morning coffee, one can see, quite plainly in the window of the nieghboring apartment building..an Ugly Naked Man. regularly. this has proven to be endlessly amusing; "Come quick, Ugly Naked Man is back!" "What's he doing now?". last night, there was a Skimpily-Clothed Skinny Woman in the room as well. Ugly Naked Man was, as always, fufilling both descriptives, seated on the bed, in an, um, rather 'anticipatory' pose while Skimpily-Clothed Skinny Woman fumbled around in her purse for i-don't-want-to-know-what. i left the kitchen, head in hands ('my eyes! my eyes!'), leaving Duncan to continue gazing and chuckling.