Site search
sponsored by
Home
News
ENLARGE
ALMOST CLEVER
Rick Seley
Most people believe that Thanksgiving is a holiday that occurs on the last Thursday in November but, for us, Thanksgiving is a four day family festival that is the highlight of the holiday season. That's right, even though the calendar says that yesterday was Thanksgiving, we're just hitting the halfway point of our celebration.
Normally, our traditional celebration starts on Wednesday afternoon. My wife, Sandra, spends Wednesday morning baking pies to make the house smell like somebody's grandma lives there. Meanwhile, I furiously clean bathrooms, mop floors, pick up dog poop out of the backyard (so that grandkids can roam out there freely) and desperately try to find enough clean sheets for the guest bed, the couch, an inflatable mattress (that never works right) and several miscellaneous camping cushions for our visiting loved ones to sleep on.
As a rule, about two thirds of the way through this process our visiting loved ones arrive ... all at once. They always say that their simultaneous arrival is purely coincidental, but I remain convinced that it is the smell of the pies baking that draws them in. We have often turned away total strangers who, having smelled the pies while driving through the neighborhood, arrive at our door thinking they had found their grandmother's house.
Once everyone has arrived, Sandra and I force the grandkids to line up so we can hug, kiss, pinch cheeks, poke the bellies and coo about how much they have grown. This, of course, is pure torture for 2-7 year-old kids who have been strapped into car seats for several hours but we see it as our right, having spent hours baking pies and picking up dog poop for them.
After the initial hugs and greetings, Wednesday quickly becomes a high volume affair with kids running and playing with our giant dog barking his approval and adults splintering into several groups; some eating snacks and talking, some playing pool and talking, some yelling at kids to slow down and someone always comments on how good the pies smell or how clean the bathroom is. Sandra and I smile, knowing that we have not had pie or clean bathrooms since their last visit.
Wednesday night we play games with half the kids while the other half spend their evening trying to get the grandkids to stay in bed. We're a competitive lot, so a “friendly” board game will often result in accusations of malfeasance, collusion or outright cheating, which is always followed by uproarious laughter by everyone but the offended party who then challenges everyone to a rematch.
We always stay up too late, and I always lose. I don't know how, but it always works out that way.
Thursday is reserved for cooking, eating, playing with the grandkids, more eating, a weak attempt to clean up the kitchen, more eating, watching football, more eating, a viciously competitive Wii tennis tournament, more eating, a little drinking, a viciously competitive Wii bowling tournament, more eating, more drinking, a board game (played while eating), an aborted early attempt to put the grandkids to bed, more eating, most adults change into lounge pants and begin moaning randomly, another board game (less eating, noticeable increase in moaning), more accusations causing more laughter which usually causes some flatulence which always causes more accusations and laughter.
Fridays are spent swearing we'll never eat that much again and then making a valiant, but generally unsuccessful attempt to eat that much again. Games are played in smaller groups as many of us sneak off for a quick nap, during which you will probably be photographed and after which you will certainly be ridiculed. The grandkids and the dog run, shout, jump and bark for hours; a good time is had by all.
Faced by a long drive with a vanload of sugared up kids and the prospect of another day at our house, which is now totally trashed and smells more like turkey flatulence than pie, Saturday morning is usually when everyone starts to head home. There are hugs, kisses and revenge is sworn for lost board games and Wii matches then, with a wave and a honk, they are gone.
But that's tomorrow; right now there is a Risk game breaking out in the dining room, so I'm going to kiss a grandkid, grab a turkey sandwich and go conquer the world ... it could happen!
What better way to give thanks for a wonderful life than to enjoy it with your favorite people.
Rick Seley, an award-winning columnist, observed Thanksgiving from his Fallon home.
Normally, our traditional celebration starts on Wednesday afternoon. My wife, Sandra, spends Wednesday morning baking pies to make the house smell like somebody's grandma lives there. Meanwhile, I furiously clean bathrooms, mop floors, pick up dog poop out of the backyard (so that grandkids can roam out there freely) and desperately try to find enough clean sheets for the guest bed, the couch, an inflatable mattress (that never works right) and several miscellaneous camping cushions for our visiting loved ones to sleep on.
As a rule, about two thirds of the way through this process our visiting loved ones arrive ... all at once. They always say that their simultaneous arrival is purely coincidental, but I remain convinced that it is the smell of the pies baking that draws them in. We have often turned away total strangers who, having smelled the pies while driving through the neighborhood, arrive at our door thinking they had found their grandmother's house.
Once everyone has arrived, Sandra and I force the grandkids to line up so we can hug, kiss, pinch cheeks, poke the bellies and coo about how much they have grown. This, of course, is pure torture for 2-7 year-old kids who have been strapped into car seats for several hours but we see it as our right, having spent hours baking pies and picking up dog poop for them.
After the initial hugs and greetings, Wednesday quickly becomes a high volume affair with kids running and playing with our giant dog barking his approval and adults splintering into several groups; some eating snacks and talking, some playing pool and talking, some yelling at kids to slow down and someone always comments on how good the pies smell or how clean the bathroom is. Sandra and I smile, knowing that we have not had pie or clean bathrooms since their last visit.
Wednesday night we play games with half the kids while the other half spend their evening trying to get the grandkids to stay in bed. We're a competitive lot, so a “friendly” board game will often result in accusations of malfeasance, collusion or outright cheating, which is always followed by uproarious laughter by everyone but the offended party who then challenges everyone to a rematch.
We always stay up too late, and I always lose. I don't know how, but it always works out that way.
Thursday is reserved for cooking, eating, playing with the grandkids, more eating, a weak attempt to clean up the kitchen, more eating, watching football, more eating, a viciously competitive Wii tennis tournament, more eating, a little drinking, a viciously competitive Wii bowling tournament, more eating, more drinking, a board game (played while eating), an aborted early attempt to put the grandkids to bed, more eating, most adults change into lounge pants and begin moaning randomly, another board game (less eating, noticeable increase in moaning), more accusations causing more laughter which usually causes some flatulence which always causes more accusations and laughter.
Fridays are spent swearing we'll never eat that much again and then making a valiant, but generally unsuccessful attempt to eat that much again. Games are played in smaller groups as many of us sneak off for a quick nap, during which you will probably be photographed and after which you will certainly be ridiculed. The grandkids and the dog run, shout, jump and bark for hours; a good time is had by all.
Faced by a long drive with a vanload of sugared up kids and the prospect of another day at our house, which is now totally trashed and smells more like turkey flatulence than pie, Saturday morning is usually when everyone starts to head home. There are hugs, kisses and revenge is sworn for lost board games and Wii matches then, with a wave and a honk, they are gone.
But that's tomorrow; right now there is a Risk game breaking out in the dining room, so I'm going to kiss a grandkid, grab a turkey sandwich and go conquer the world ... it could happen!
What better way to give thanks for a wonderful life than to enjoy it with your favorite people.
Rick Seley, an award-winning columnist, observed Thanksgiving from his Fallon home.
