Sisters Sue and Carol; Carol’s husband Bruce; their kids Megan and Aimée; and Aimée’s boyfriend, Jeremy are out for a Thanksgiving visit. I’m learning how to let go of the spatial tension that I’ve created in my bachelo-sphere, letting them spill all over the house. I’ll spend several hours figuring out which angle the new Cobra Lamp should be in relation to the curve of the Milo Baughman chair, so it’s a test to have things randomly moved to fit some need other than aesthetic tension. It’s the problem with being me at the moment. I need a sloppy husbear to disrupt and challenge my obsessive compulsive feng shui illusion of harmony.
Prior to the family’s arrival, birthday activities occupied much of my time. BC took me to the Last Supper Club, where I am sad to say, and despite Big Chrissy’s charming company, the food was only so-so. The fried artichoke appetizer, for instance, should have been about artichoke, salt, extra virgin olive oil, and fried-ness. Instead, they mucked it up by drowning everything in a sugary raspberry vinegar. Some italian mamma ancestor of mine is rolling in her grave, cursing misguided American innovation. The pasta with the pork ragu was pretty tasty, though, as was my salad.
Moving forward in time, but backward as the stomach churns, D treated me to a nice Thai lunch and lots of pink roses. And then Philip treated me to some tasty pancakes at a birthday breakfast the next morning at It’s Tops. Blueberry buckwheat. Yum-babba!
I’ve been listening to teen emo-chick music lately. I’m totally in love with Camera Obscura, and their sweet ballads about heart ache & break.
Meanwhile, the family and I loudly munched along towards Thanksgiving. For the big day, Brother Mark made a turducken–a duck stuffed in a chicken, stuffed in a turkey. It was so very strange and delicious. I was an appetizing dish myself by evening’s end–a plump and juicy tur-Coco-ducken! I made a wild mushroom pate as appetizer, and a salad of arugula, fennel, and persimmon. Aimée shocked me senseless with her chocolate crinkle cookies and kiwi and raspberry goat cheese tart. While we were cooking, Aimée never noticed when the timer went off, seemed distracted by having fun, and then, as if completely by random, out pop some of the most tasty treats I’ve had this millennium.
I hope you all had lots of Thanksgiving goodness, and are enjoying the tryptophan-driven groggy stupor that we’ll all be in for the next few days!