Technically, it is Thanksgiving here in Austin, Texas. Not many people eating turkey yet, I don't think, because it's like one in the morning, and what kind of deal is that, eating turkey at one?
I'm sitting here with my fancy glass full of fancy Irish whiskey, glad that I drank that cup of fancy cappuccino after supper. I'm tired, but I'm not. I know I have to get up early to start cooking, and I know that I should go to bed, but I have to stay up to thaw out the turkey.
This is something I forget each and every year. Forgetting to thaw out the turkey is as much a Thanksgiving tradition as actually eating the turkey. And honestly, I don't mind.
It's nice to have the time to sit and reflect about the upcoming holiday. We call it Thanksgiving, and there's always about a million d-bags preaching about how even though we call it a holiday about giving thanks, we rarely slow down to truly contemplate the things for which we should be thankful. Honestly, when they're talking about that, I mostly ignore them. We call it Thanksgiving, and it's a time to give thanks, and I got way too much to do to sit around giving thanks.
I'm dealing with traffic, I'm dealing with making sure my mom finds our place, I'm busy making sure there's food, there's booze, there's something to watch on TV, whatever.
Who are these people who can hang out giving thanks? They aren't the people in charge of the turkey, I'll tell you that. They aren't washing the dishes or watching the children or listening for like the hundredth time as Uncle Mort tells that story about the time he had the stroke and ended up in the hospital room with that queer who kissed every man who came to visit. The people being thankful, they aren't shifting uncomfortably in the chair, because when Uncle Mort gets started on the homosexuals, it's only a matter of time before he moves on to the Jews, and it's all down hill from there.
Anyway, that's what I use this time for, while I wait for the sink to drain and fill, because you can't thaw the turkey out on a plate by the sink like your grandma did for like fifty years. Nope, now you have to thaw the bird in the refrigerator. Or if you don't have time for that, you have to fill the sink with cold water and frozen turkey, and you have to change the water every thirty minutes.
I'm not sure why. I mean, I know why they tell me, but come on. For years people tossed the turkey onto a plate, left it overnight, and then started cooking it first thing in the morning. And suddenly, that'll kill you. I don't buy it, not for a second, but the people around me kind of do, which is why I'm up at one in the morning, pouring cold water on this dead animal like it's a dehydrated plant that needs to be kept alive.
Which is why I'm up at one in the morning, writing this, and thinking about all the things I'm thankful for. I'm not going to get into that list, so you can stop worrying about that. It's a pretty long list, believe it or not. And it's a very personal list.
You don't need to know what I'm thankful for, and I don't need to know what you're thankful for. We're thankful for things, and I think that's good enough.
I reserve the right to tell you later, though. Until then, let me just say:
Happy Holidays, Strangelanders. I hope you live the kind of life where your list is longer than mine, and I hope that you are able to enjoy yourself.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go change this dead turkey's bath water.