Our Thanksgiving 2009

Our Thanksgiving was smaller and quieter than in years past. Cass, our oldest, spent the holiday with his girlfriend at her parent's house outside of L.A.  Chelsey, having moved to Alabama this year, drove up to my sister's house in Indiana. Both of them were surrounded by much family and friends, and enjoyed a bustling, busy vacation.

Poor Cade, our youngest, was the only one who could make it home to celebrate with Bruce and I. He watched football games, ate, slept and went hunting with his Dad. I hope we didn't bore him.

The house was decorated, per usual.

Many of the decorations being either ones the kids had made long ago, or ones inherited from my mother.

Long ago, I had cross stitched this table runner, and this year, I'd managed to cross stitch a pretty bread cloth... I think it's a nice addition!

The pies were made along with the cranberry sauce... honey oatmeal rolls, Gramma's Nuts and Bolts. I tried a new recipe for the sweet potatoes. We had turkey, sausage stuffing, green bean casserole (which is Cade's favorite), and mashed potatoes as well. I tried to make smaller amounts than usual. I don't think I succeeded. But there is an upside to that... I'm pretty thankful I don't have to cook tonight!

Cade helped set the table, and forgot to put on the silverware! *LOL* but that was soon remedied, and dinner was served.

I forgot to buy gravy mix (yes... I make gravy from a mix! It's just about the ONLY thing I make from a prepackaged mix, though) Anyway... Bruce saved the day, and made old fashioned gravy from the drippings in the turkey roaster. 

After dinner, Bruce got a lot of help when he finished up carving the turkey. At one point, he had all three cats, and the two Shelties at his feet, just in case he dropped a little something on the floor.

Sometimes he shared!  I mean, it's only right. :)

Yes... our Thanksgiving was pretty subdued - but I'm guessing Christmas will make up for it!

Happy Thanksgiving

I have so much to be thankful for. I live in a big, beautiful house with modern conviences, food, heat, a dishwasher, and clothes washer, etc. My car works, my husband works... I even have a job of sorts. I have a DVD player, a satellite dish, and my precious computer. All these things I have... and for all these things I am extremely grateful. I express my gratitude often and vocally- but with all this, what I'm most thankful for is my family. Past and present. I am grateful for every awesome member on my family tree, and I love, admire and respect every single one.

When I think of Thanksgiving, it is these dear people who immediately come to mind.  My Gramma and Grampa Perrin lived on a farm in Coldwater, Michigan. Every November, my family would pile in our car, dog included, and drive the 4 hrs. to my grandparents house. When we turned onto Willowbrook Lane, my father would say, "Thuma? I think we're lost!"  My mother would look worried. "oh dear! Well, maybe we should pull into this house and ask for directions? It looks like a nice house!" and sure enough, it would turn out to be the very best house! Gramma and Grampa's house!  And often as not, they'd be standing together in the doorway, waiting for us. (Which proves I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed. I fell for the same ruse year after year. :)

All the Aunts, Uncles, cousins and their dogs would soon arrive- sometimes 32 of  us! to spend the long weekend in the old, white farmhouse (which had only one bathroom!).  I can close my eyes and see every inch of that house from the mud room/laundry room, to the parlor, to the upstairs bedrooms. I can hear the beloved voices, the football game, the clatter of dishes, the barking of dogs.  I can smell the turkeys baking, the date cookies, Gramma's special mix she called Nuts and Bolts, and my father's pipe tobacco. 

There were often 3 tables set up for Thanksgiving dinner. The big table in the dining room was for the adults. The children's table was often in the living room. My sister Sherry was usually relegated to the children's table to keep us in line. The table in the parlor was for anyone who didn't fall into either of the other categories. Teenagers, unmarrieds, etc. 

Here's a pic of the children's table the year I was born (1957) My sister Sherry is standing, and next to her is my cousin, Bonnie. In front of Sherry is my cousin, Jimmy, to his right is my sister, Marcy, then, my sister Candi, next to her is cousin Jo-Anne, cousin, Bobby, and cousin Ronnie.

This was taken in 1973- I'm standing in the back row next to my Aunt June, my cousin Bobby, my mother, and my Uncle Bob. Sitting in front of me is my father, then, Gramma, Grampa, and my cousin Jimmy.

Every aspect of Thanksgiving dinner was a wonderful chaos.  Gramma ALWAYS cried when she said Grace. Grampa ALWAYS fed the dog under the table. Someone was always running out to the kitchen to refill some dish or other. Taking orders for dessert was an experience. There would be pumpkin pie, mincemeat pie, cherry pie, and Gramma's plum pudding. If it seemed as though not enough people were opting for Gramma's plum pudding, the wives would nudge their husbands, and look at them, pointedly, until they changed their order... which would start the entire process over again... but then, not enough people were taking the mincement.... etc. My Uncle Chuck loved to tease. I remember my mother asking him if he wanted his coffee now. He politely declined, and waited until she'd poured all the coffees, served them and sat down before saying, "Now. I'd like some coffee NOW."  :)  

My sister wrote this poem summing up the experience perfectly-

To Gramma and Grampa by Candi Thanksgiving Day has come again. The family gathers round For cookies by the dozens and hot coffee by the pound. And squeezing in another room where one chair might be found. The dishes in the sink make a steady growing heap. And Gram you're everywhere at once, and Gramp, you're sound asleep. And hugging close to the TV set are football fans knee deep. We used to find it hard to keep a straight face on that day, The time so full of fun and noise, the table spread so gay, That when the grown-ups bowed their heads, we giggled while they'd pray. You don't know what you have until you lose it, and that's true. And though I'm very thankful for this life and all that's new I only wish I could be there to bow my head with you.

 

 And so, my family's Thanksgivings are patterned after the ones of my childhood. Today I baked two pies, homemade rolls, and made my own cranberry sauce. And while I was making Gramma's Nuts and Bolts, I could feel her in the kitchen with me. Yes, Gramma. I am using your recipe. I wouldn't even consider not doing it! So much of who you were, and what you did has stuck with me all these years. I cannot thank you enough.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE!

Grey November

It's spitting snow again today. The wind is blowing. It's a typical, raw November day- the kind that leaves you chilled to the bone if you're outside too long.

The dogs don't seem to mind it too much. In fact, all the animals seem to have a burst of energy when the cold weather sets in. The horses trot, canter, and throw their heads back and forth. The dogs run, and jump and play. Even the chickens still want to flap around outside, rather then huddle up in the warm chicken coop.  Maybe they know Winter will soon be here, when the choice of enjoying the great outdoors is a moot point, and things boil down to simple survival.

For me, it's a time of reflection. The calm before the storm of excitement and business (read BUSY ness) that is Christmas. It's nostalgia, and gratefulness with a heavy dose of reflection thrown in. It's November.

Immersed in Life

I'm a little subdued today... a bit down. It's a typical grey, bleak November day. Snow is coming down like crazy in the mountains, but only a random flake or two is making it to the valley floor.

Two evenings ago, I went out to feed the chickens and lock them in the coop for the night, and discovered a hawk, or an eagle had somehow gotten hold of one of my Barred Rocks. Most people would be upset because of the loss of a laying hen, but then most people would shrug their shoulders, realize this is all a part of keeping chickens, and say, "Well... it was only a chicken."  Most people.  You have to remember, I'm a Chicago-girl. I believe animals talk at midnight on Christmas Eve, and I'm convinced fairies and elves are real but much too clever to be seen. I held each tiny chick against my face when the box arrived last May, and much to the dismay of my practical husband, gave each pullet a special name. I nurtured them as they grew into distinct personalities, and I mourn the loss of this particular hen. She deserves that much.

 
Then, last night, while feeding the horses and chickens again, I heard a shot. I turned to see 15 head of elk calves and cows in my neighbor's pasture. One less than there had been minutes previously.  Again... I'm the wife of a Wildlife Biologist. I understand hunting. I know that the populations of elk and deer must be managed to maintain healthy herds. I know that humans are carnivorous, and that this elk, who was humanely, and quickly,  killed, will be completely utilized by my neighbor's family.  I, also, know, that the majority of meat the people of the United States consume comes to them through shameful, inhumane practices.  Cows in feedlots up to their knees in excrement, shot full of anti-biotics, not allowed to move so their meat is tender, and marbelized with fat, would kill to live out their lives running free, moving, eating their natural diet in their native environment. Still..... I mourned her passing.

One thing about living in rural Montana, you certainly understand where the basics of life come from.  I know where the heat in my house comes from.  It comes from the months of hard, physical labor my husband puts in, felling large, dead trees, chopping them into manageable rounds, loading them into the bed of his pick-up, only to be stacked in the woodshed (which, by the way, he built himself).  That's not the end of the process. The wood is then used to stoke the wood furnace, twice daily- which then boils the water, which is piped into our house. Heat is extracted from the water into the air that flows through the ductwork warming the rooms. I know this. I am one of the people who stokes the stove. I know exactly where my heat is coming from, and I"m grateful for it.

I know where our food comes from. It comes from our garden. We spent all year composting food scraps to improve the soil in our garden, so it could produce an abundance of healthy vegetables. The produce we didn't eat in season, was canned and frozen in preparation for the long Winter months. I know. I was one of the people who weeded, tended, and preserved this sustenance.

Eggs come from the chickens I lovingly feed pellets, and scraps twice daily. I'm the one who cleans their coop,  makes sure they have fresh hay, clean water, sun, heat, and exercise. I'm the one who gathers their eggs, washes them, and packages them in discarded egg cartons before selling them to people who give no thought to the series of events required to produce a single egg.

And I know where our meat comes from.  I may hate that our consumption of meat comes directly from the sacrifice of a living creature, but at least I am cognizant of the fact that it does. At least I have thanked that deer, elk or moose for forfeiting their life so that my family can eat. And, at least, I have not contributed to the shameful practices of factory farming.

I'm sure it's easier to shop for all your wants and needs in a Super Store BECAUSE it distances us from reality... We don't have to think about where our food comes from, we don't have to work for any of it. We just have to hand over the debit card. But I'm afraid that we're becoming numb. I'm afraid we're feeling entitled. I'm afraid we're losing sight of our authenticity of being! which happens to be the definition of reality, and makes it easier for unscrupulous people to slide things by us, like factory farming.


Anyway.... I apologize for the soapbox lecture. I guess the upshot is that I feel truly fortunate to be able to live where I live- working with, and utilizing the environment to sustain my family. I am grateful for the labor which enables me to be connected with Life- Alive, aware and conscious of all Life is and entails..

Snow in the Mtns

There's snow on our mountains this morning. This is GREAT news if you're a hunter.... it's not so great, if you happen to be an elk.

A Trip to Missoula

From our house to the Costco in Missoula is about a 2 hr. 15 min. drive. We try to get to Missoula every 4-6 wks. because living in Thompson Falls is rather expensive. (i.e. Replacement blades for my razor costs $11.95 in Thompson, but only $6.78 at the Missoula Walmart. Everything is like that!) Because of this, we wait to buy most things until we can get to "the big city" and because of that, every trip is definitely an event, if not an ordeal.

We try to leave the house around 9 am. All the animals have to be fed, watered, pottied, etc. doors are locked, lists grabbed. Once on the road, Bruce settles in to listen to his XM radio, while I generally thumb through catalogs to pass the time. One of the highlights of spending the day in Missoula is determining where to eat. Bruce and I NEVER go out to eat in Thompson Falls. In fact, we consider buying a quickie frozen pizza, or a prepared frozen meal as "eating out" because I don't have to cook from scratch! So, eating in a restaurant is a VERY big deal.  Sometimes we hit Arby's or Wendy's (and yes... we consider them restaurants! *L*) but sometimes we splurge, and go to Pizza Hut! or one of my favorites, Perkins, or Johnny Carino's! Mmmm! What a treat!  We have to time the meal, so it covers both lunch AND dinner. There is no time or money to waste, although, we invariably stop at McDonald's on the way home to buy a large coffee for the trip.

               Shopping is tiring, exhilarating, necessary and frivolous! We have set stores we MUST hit! Pet Smart to buy food for the cats and dogs, Walmart to buy groceries that we do not buy in bulk, Michaels for craft supplies for the preschoolers, Lowes so we can make repairs, and of course, Costco! BUT while we're at these stores, we have to walk directly past all that wonderful STUFF on sale!!! All the HOLIDAY stuff! the books, the treats, the "extras!"  The sheer gluttony of all that merchandise!!! (I know I did not NEED those three jack-o-lantern stands... but they were 75% off!!!)  It's so easy to get carried away! and I"m constantly re-assessing.... Do I NEED this????  Can I walk away and live?

It doesn't take too long, however, before the worrying steps in. There is SO much we DO have to buy... We're constantly checking with each other... "Do we have to get paper towels this time? or can we hang on until the next Missoula trip?"  "Do you remember how much dish soap we have?"  "Will we be back before so and so's birthday? We'd better shop for them now!" As the purchases pile up, the "fun" items make their way back on the shelves. I start adding up the amounts in my head, justifying bargains- knowing I HAVE to buy all this... either a little bit at a time in Thompson at inflated prices, or all at once in Missoula. The amount of money spent begins to panic me.

There's another problem with these marathon trips to Missoula. We're always together! so, there's no popping back to pick up a gift someone has pointed out they'd like for Christmas.  Its just too far to drive back, and so we've developed elaborate schemes to purchase presents right under loved ones' noses!  Yesterday, I purchased a $5 doormat because it was big enough to hide several great stocking stuffers for Bruce. And I deliberately turned away when I saw my husband tucking a paperback I'd talked about under several items in the cart.

It's always late when we turn the car towards home. We're usually driving in the dark, a long, cold 2 1/4 hrs. where we have to be hyper-vigilant for wildlife crossing the road, while exhausted from the walking, shopping, and decision-making.   Our long driveway looks mighty good at 9pm, 10 pm, or sometimes later. I jump out, and open the gates for Bruce to drive through. While he puts the car in the garage, I feed the horses and the chickens who let me know, in no uncertain terms that they are HUNGRY! and I am LATE! Once the Shelties are let out, and fed, the cats petted and fed, the parrots talked to and calmed down, we begin to unload the car.

Groceries must be packed into the refrigerator and freezer, Dry goods are stored in the pantry. I get my second wind about now. I LOVE the feeling of a stocked pantry. All those cans of tomato sauce, the bags of brown sugar, the pounds of flour.... all that potential! It is exciting and comforting. It makes me feel very secure.

THEN, I get to examine all the other purchases... the razors! YAY! I saved so much money! the vitamins! I'm so glad I remembered we were getting low!  a treat for the dogs! they are so happy! I spirit away Bruce's stocking stuffers, and smile to myself! I'm getting a start on Christmas. Every little bit is such a relief. Our trip to Missoula is over- we won't be back for quite a while. I add a few things to the list on the refrigerator... things we DID forget this time around. We'll make do without them until then. We always manage.