1 post tagged “holiday”

I love this time of year. Sure, the gathering of friends and family is nice. And who doesn't love a holiday that's all about getting new shit? But for me, it's all about the food. I know that there are only two days where the feasting is front and center, but during the days and weeks between them, and even into the new year, it's all about the apple pies and orange-spice cookies and chocolate covered everything. Baked goods. How I love them.

Last year I even took a stab at creating a few of these myself. Though my apple pie was a touch on the watery side, there wasn't a slice left at the end of the day. Granted, I ate three of them, but still. I even made a couple of pumpkin pies which came out of the oven looking like rust-colored pools of love. And tasted like it too. I simply cannot wait until the day of gorging begins!

This year could be different, though. I'm not going to be gathering with my kin here in Chicago nor my family back in Pennsylvania. No. I am headed south. To North Carolina. To be with K's family this Thanksgiving. Her sister Becca has called dibs on the hosting duties and the horde that is The Morris Clan are all headed that way. She lives in Asheville, a city I've never been to, but one I've heard great things about. Lots of green spaces to hike and a downtown that boasts plenty of bars, bookstores and bemusement to satisfy anyone.

The only snag on this sweater of familial feasting is the digs. Or so I fear.

Becca and her beau are building a house. Have been building it for some time now. They have a piece of land and are doing most of the work themselves. So things are slow going. But there's a barn on the property and an abandoned, double-wide trailer. When they first started work on the house, they were living in a tent. Year round. Even when it snowed. Since then, however, they've done some work on the barn and have moved into it. This is where we will all be sleeping for the duration of this holiday. They called yesterday to inform us that the wood-burning stove had been installed, so there will be heat. 

I'm sure it's very lovely, as Becca is quite the creative cat. It's probably nicer than my apartment, with it's "vintage" kitchen and retarded shower. But when I hear the word "barn" my imagination gets the better of me. I picture us all sleeping on mounds of hay, fighting off mice and snakes for floor space. Or rather, ground space, because in my imagination, it's a dirt floor barn.

And while I can go a few days without the television or checking my email (gulp), I'm a fellow who likes to take a hot shower every morning. From what I've gathered, there is no running water in the barn. Becca showers at her place of employment. This also means that the others necessities of a bathroom have to be dealt with as well. On the biggest face stuffing day of the year, I'm going to be sans potty. My fear is that there's a shovel by the front door with a roll of t.p. on the handle. "Just head down wind about fifty yards or so and dig a hole. Be sure to fill it in good, because the bears and coyotes might dig it up and then they'll have your scent and well, we don't want to be catering their Thanksgiving dinner this year, if you know what I mean."

Supposedly there's a toilet in the trailer. But it's haunted. Becca gave herself a black eye fleeing some name-whispering presence a while back. Lord. Is there any worse place in a home to have a ghost? Sitting there, with your pants around your ankles, at your most vulnerable and some godd*mn unsettled spirit wants to make himself known. I suppose the silver lining is that you're already sitting on the crapper so there's no chance of soiling your britches. But still. It's one more thing I don't want to have to deal with when I'm making room for more pie.

Speaking of pies, I'm a little worried about where all the fixins will be prepared. I can't picture a Kenmore Range sitting along side the manger. And while I'm sure you can cook a turkey on a spit, I don't think the same can be said for mashed potatoes or cranberry sauce. Though, if it's the canned cranberries, I guess we can take a page out of the cowboy handbook and just sit the can in the fire. But what about the pies!? How do you set a campfire to 450 degrees for the first thirty minutes, then lower it 350 for the next hour? They don't have a dial on those things.

All that said, I'm looking forward to the trip. It will be nice to get out of Dodge for a while. I miss being in the out of doors, so that will be nice. And the Morris clan are a great group of folks to have to holed up with. Though, with the waistband expanding festivities, I think we'll have to come up with some other post-dinner activity than the usual fall back of Twister. I'm sure we can come up with a new game of some sort. Huddling for warmth? Exorcisms? Lice picking?

Happy Thanksgiving, Gentle Reader. I hope your day is filled with laughter and love and lots of pie. And that your trip to the bathroom doesn't require boots, bear bells or corncobs.

Be well.