Wednesday, Dec. 03, 2003 - 3:04 p.m.
Greetings,
This is bound to be an outrageously long entry, so unless you care about me, my family, North Carolina, ramblings about a stranger’s Thanksgiving, the beach, Wilmington, North Carolina, Dead Lobster, shopping, airports/airplanes, Sketchers, elusive bubble light nightlights, walks in the woods, tiny dogs named Samantha, New Bern, North Carolina, turkey sandwiches/soup, back porches, Ford Escapes or the Honeymooners, you probably should skip this entry.
If not,
Follow me….
Thursday:
My frickin’ alarm went off at 4 a.m. but due to all the pre-packing I’d done the night before and a silly bedtime of like 9 p.m., I was able to roll out from under the covers and stumble blearily into the shower. Bleary is the definitive word.
Thomas and I were on the road by 5 a.m. and the trials and tribulations that were in store for us at the airport(s) we were required to pass through on our way to North Carolina will take some time to bewail. So you are forewarned.
First of all, we were let into the long term parking lot and then we saw the board that reflected that all 7 levels were full. But I was determined to find a parking space. I had a bit of a tussle with a tiny space on the 7th level, but it bested me and nearly crunched that little flap under the nose of my car so away I went back down until finally on level 3 I saw a great (yet suspicious) parking space right by the stairs. I nabbed it and Thomas and I journeyed over land and sea (really through tunnels and down stairs) to the terminal to find the Continental ticket desk. Which we found after walking approximately halfway around the equator. Then we discovered that really we were flying Northwest (as a courtesy to Continental or something) and so we had to retrace our steps along the equator and plug Thomas’s credit card into the E-Ticket machine whereupon our boarding passes for both flights plopped out into our hot, sweaty hands.
Then it was off for some fun with security which included Thomas having to take off his shoes and belt and me waiting by the gate watching everyone else on the plane board first while Thomas hopped around helpfully with his arms spread out so some guy could wave a metal detecting wand over his body.
Finally, we both boarded our plane to Memphis where we were informed by the pilot that we were in for some rough weather and turbulence and so the flight attendants were ordered to stay in their seats for 35 of the 53 minutes we were in the air. This left them with a ten minute window to run around throwing pre-poured orange juice and water at all the frantically parched passengers. And for people who got to spend most of the flight on their asses, the flight attendants were very surly and bitchy. What happened to the jolly, carefree, here’s-a-free-nipper-bottle-of champagne-Happy-Thanksgiving flight attendants of Thanksgiving flights past? I know for sure they don’t work for Northwest.
Finally we were in Memphis, home of the Memphis Belle Flying Fortress and lots of BBQ restaurants. We had over an hour to kill and we did just that eating McDonald’s for breakfast. There’s something at once comforting and yet vaguely horrifying about an Egg McMuffin, but BBQ at 7:30 a.m. is just not something I will subject myself to.
While I guarded the luggage, held down a table, and waited for Tommy to procure the food, I had to listen to some loudmouthed, gravel voiced female military person regale some downtrodden, mealy mouthed, soft voiced military male with every damn thing she’d ever thought about serving in the military and about life in general. Oh. My. God. Make. It. Stop.
Thomas and I then suffered the indignity of sitting in separate aisles both in the middle seats for our flight to Raleigh. And I booked the damn tickets in September. What is wrong with this picture?
But we found my father waiting around in Baggage Claim and he led us out to Edna, my mother’s brand new goldy-silver Ford Escape.
We arrived at my parents’ house a little before 1 p.m. whereupon I went into a frenzy to get the turkey into the oven. Well, okay, I changed my clothes and rubbed olive oil on the bird and made stuffing, etc.
The turkey was in the oven by 1:11 precisely and that’s when I went out to the back porch to stuff my face with Cheshire cheese and crackers and a well deserved glass of white wine.
White wine flowed for the rest of the day and into the night as you can imagine.
The afternoon passed in a blur of back porch sitting, cheese chomping, unpacking in my Dad’s bedroom that he generously lets us use when we visit, Samantha the tiny dog petting, talking, and eating cranberry and pumpkin bread around 3:30.
The sun had just set when we sat down to our Thanksgiving dinner where everything under the sun appeared in one form or another on the table. Dad had his tiny, creamed onions that look so fascinating yet taste like ass. Tom had his beloved corn. Mom had two kinds of cranberry sauce and I had some of everything, including peas, excepting creamed onions.
The turkey came out moist and tender. I think Samantha the dog liked it the best to judge by the backflips and tail wags she produced to get more off our plates and into her mouth.
We started watching Thanksgiving episodes of “Friends” before the turkey was done and we continued after what was left of the turkey was simmering in a pot with water for soup stock.
Then we watched “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation” and enjoyed our visit with the Griswold family.
It was bed time around 11:30 or so. ZZZZZZZZZ.
Friday:
Coffee and cranberry bread at the kitchen table for breakfast and an episode or two of “What’s My Line” from like 1961 or so.
My father and I left for New Bern about 11 or so to go visit my friend Leslie, her husband Derak, her son, Brandon, and her parents at her parents’ new house.
Dad and I listened to music from the 40s all the way there and most of the way back, although we did venture into the 50s and then somehow jumped into the 70s and 80s with the Carpenters and Fleetwood Mac.
When we arrived we stuffed ourselves with delicious turkey sandwiches and chips and an assortment of side dishes and then Leslie and I sat outside to talk while Derak and Brandon played with Tartan, the dog, in the backyard.
It was very good to see Leslie and her family again. Seeing her at Thanksgiving is starting to turn into a tradition. We’ve already arranged next year!
It was a breezy day, not too cold, and it was great to sit outside and catch up with each other’s lives. When it got dark and chilly, we retreated to the den and before Dad and I left, Leslie and Derak showed me pictures of their house and the new kitchen – which looks fabulous.
Dad and I left around 6 p.m. and it started to rain on the way home which made the red lights smear across the wet road in a cold and dreamlike fashion. I wrapped a coat around my legs and stayed nice and toasty warm. It was odd to be the passenger since I am more often than not the driver.
We got home around 8:30 or so and discovered Tom had cleaned up and fixed up both computers in our absence. He’d also had lots of back porch sitting time and talking with my mother. They were both watching “Fawlty Towers” when we arrived, but we switched to “The Honeymooners” shortly thereafter and I ended up kicking Tommy off the couch so I could stretch out and, of course, fall asleep.
Bedtime was again around 11:30.
Saturday:
We went shopping in Smithfield (home of the Ava Gardner Museum for those in the know). We left in the morning with my father driving and casting dire predictions concerning everyone else in the galaxy also converging upon this shopping center at the precise moment we arrived therefore rendering parking, not to mention actual shopping, an impossibility.
Well, it was extremely crowded, but after 20 minutes of driving around (while we were shopping), Dad did score a good parking space.
First off it was into the Sketchers store for walking shoes and sneakers (tennis shoes to some people. Perhaps “work out shoes” might cover it better. Or something.) They were having a buy one pair/get the next half price sale so my mom bought me a pair of black and white (and silver) sneakers/tennis shoes/work out shoes for $20. Tommy got a pair of brown hiking boots and a pair of white sneakers/tennis shoes/work out shoes for $84! Dad joined us in the store for a while, but soon retreated to the car for the rest of the shopping spree.
In the ensuing hours Thomas scored a new Izod winter jacket which is snazzy to say the least, some Isotoner gloves (black), a new green and tan rolling carry on bag (needed to bring home all our haul), and that may be it, but it somehow doesn’t seem like it.
I scored a new pair of Isotoner gloves (burgundy) and the aforementioned Sketchers.
Crescentwood scored some new ecru colored doilies for table tops (for that romantic effect), a Mr. and Mrs. Snowman ceramic spoon holder and probably more that I distressingly cannot remember right now. Friday was a long time ago!
We took our haul back home and picked up my aunt Donna and took off again for Dead Lobster and a marvelous dinner. Like last year, Tommy and I had Bahama Mama rum drinks. Tommy had the steak and lobster tail (I ate the lobster tail) and some New England clam chowder and I had fried clam strips, shrimp scampi and the lobster tail.
We were stuffed to the gills (hee hee) by dinner’s end and drove home to watch even more Honeymooner’s episodes – some in the living room and some in the bedroom. I slept through most of the ones in the bedroom naturally.
Sunday:
It was a day where we spent our time doing nothing in particular. We took a long walk through the woods with Samantha and we took about 85 million pictures along the way. (Dad’s birthday present – a memory card for his digital camera – was bought at Circuit City before we went into Dead Lobster.) Donna saw four deer but I didn’t. I saw a woodpecker but she didn’t. We saw horses running and horses eating grass from our hands and the stream (into which I threw lots of sticks). Dad and I played on the swings for a while and then we returned to the top of the hill by their house and sat on the chairs there for a bit before heading back inside.
My turkey soup had cooked for the entire time we walked and it was nicely done when we got back. Mom and I ate some at the kitchen table and I have to say my first attempt at turkey soup wasn’t half bad. Next year I’m going to put risotto instead of rice I think. Even my father had some and he thought it was pretty good
For a long stretch of time Mom, Donna and I sat out on the back porch. Samantha curled up on my lap and slept (when she wasn’t barking at nothing).
There was some Christmas decorating which mostly consisted of me picking out ornaments and stuff that my mother doesn’t use anymore and, of course, drinking wine.
I visited my aunt at her house until she had to feed the horses and then I brought extension cords back to Mom for her Christmas tree on the kitchen table.
We ate pork chops, potatoes, corn and peas (and apple sauce for me) for dinner. Tommy had cheeseburgers made on the George Foreman grill. There was no Chef Paul’s Meat Magic to be found so I improvised with Nature’s seasoning, salt, pepper, and hot pepper flakes. Tommy seemed to enjoy the cheeseburgers, so I think the experiment was a success.
I lit all sorts of candles all over the living room that night and sat in the dark talking to Tommy for a while. It was just a very relaxing day.
Lights out (with the Honeymooner’s) around 11:30.
Monday:
For various reasons we didn’t get our scheduled 10 a.m. start to the beach, but we were on the road by 11. Edna conveyed us to Wilmington and Wrightsville Beach with ease.
It was a windy day, temps in the 60s/70s. The sky was a piercing blue and the sea was dark and foamy. Tommy and I collected about 1,263,498 shells (apiece) and my dad, Tommy and I took about 2,398,320 pictures. (Well, okay, we took 77 pictures that day.)
Tommy and I both took solitary walks along the water’s edge and we marveled at how well our Sketchers did on slippery sand. My father sat in the car after the first half hour or so, but he had an ocean view.
Sea and sand and shells, that’s how we spent a good couple of hours before heading towards Wilmington and the Cotton Exchange to shop and eat.
The Cotton Exchange is right on the banks of the Cape Fear River. There was a great store called the Crescent Moon where I bought an Egyptian Bedouin ball with Egyptian coins on it. It’s amber and mysterious and has crescent moon coins all around it. I love it.
We bought Erzulie, Papa Legba (his and hers) and Ghede strands of colored beads to thank them for watching over Crescentwood and the cats in our absence. Erzulie got pink beads, my Papa got bright red, Tom’s Papa got dark red and Ghede got black.
We ate lunch/dinner (around 3:30) at this restaurant called Paddy’s Hollow. There were Irish beers, but not much Irish food on the menu. I had some kick ass baked ziti with sausage and astounded my father by not imbibing anything alcoholic. Yes, it can be done!
Afterwards, Dad went out to take pictures of the river and the battleship North Carolina while Tommy, Mom and I hit a couple more shops. One of them was a tee shirt shop where Tommy got the best tee shirt – very piratical. I bought a pewter crab magnet with a green glass belly that says, “Wilmington, NC” on it for the refrigerator.
We joined Dad at the river’s edge and plotted our drive home. I say plotted because it sounds like a murder mystery and my parents did nearly murder each other on the way home when we got lost trying to find Interstate 40.
Some of the last precious moments of sunlight were spent sitting in the parking lot of the Cotton Exchange trying to figure out the dueling dome lights, but we did have some light to drive by. Perhaps 5 minutes’ worth.
After a 25 minute detour, (complete with yelling and swearing from everyone’s corner but Tommy’s), we finally figured out where the hell we were, and we set off towards home. (Tommy and I did laugh our asses off reliving the Lost in Wilmington Adventure when we stopped for gas on the way home. When both my mom and dad screamed, “GODDAMNIT!” at the same time and lost their breath, that was pure comic genius.)
Even with the driving adventures, we still managed to get home around 8:30 and we downloaded the pictures, chatted a bit, packed, and (Tommy and I at least) retired to bed with, you guessed it, “The Honeymooners”.
Tuesday:
There was really only time for a cup of coffee and a shower before it was time to head off to the airport and home. The line through Security was astronomical; enough to make me wonder what Sunday must have been like. Tom and I snagged the bulkhead seats so we had lots of leg room for the flight to Memphis and then we had that hour to kill which we did eating McDonald’s (lunch this time). Then onto the plane and New Orleans.
The flight nearly turned back on the runway when some old bitch refused to give a “yes” or “no” answer to the question, “Can you lift 50 pounds and operate the emergency exit since you are sitting there?” Not only wouldn’t she answer, she wouldn’t move. Well, at least at first, but a constant barrage of abuse from all the flight attendants finally convinced her and we were sky bound.
I had an adventure paying for parking at the Parking Machine and then we found Kharis and battled highway traffic to pick up Meow at the vet.
What was left of the afternoon I spent unpacking and getting my backpack together for today’s work day. Last night we ate pumpkin pie and cuddled the cats and watched “Leave It to Beaver”.
When I got home, my bedroom clock was behind two hours – a mystery I have yet to solve – and so I fixed it, but I still got up at 3 this morning to make sure it was really 3 and not 5 because I had visions of oversleeping and getting up at 7 thinking it was 5 and that would have been pure horror.
And now I am here and Thanksgiving in North Carolina is over for yet another year.
Oh, and the bubble light nightlight, I forgot to get one at Cracker Barrel. Drat.
Until next time,
Olrun
