Happy Thanksgiving!

I love Thanksgiving. It isn't the weather, although this year it was certainly mild and easy to drive in. It isn't the food, although the food certainly is wonderful. It's the time with family, the socializing, admiring the new baby, seeing how much the little ones have grown, chatting over pumpkin pie about different preparation methods, chatting over clean up about new recipies, chatting over tea about life in general. My extended family takes it for granted. They have no idea how lucky they are, or how lucky I feel that they have made my son and me a part of it.

I had a conversation with my brother a couple of years ago about cooking, and one of the things he told me is that sometimes the key to learning how to cook something is in the kitchen chat. One woman in the kitchen will say to another, "I just love the [insert dish of choice here]. What is the secret ingredient?" or something to that effect. A technique is shared, or a new recipe is added to the arsenal. Today, I got to chat with Aunt Marlene.

I just loved this cucumber salad she served with dinner tonight, and Ian ate it like it was going out of style. So, over cleanup, I asked her, "How did you make that wonderful cucumber salad?" It was so easy! She chunked up some cucumbers, poured some Ranch dressing over them, and sprinkled on a little oregano. What a great idea! Another recipe/technique added to the arsenal.

The entire dinner was wonderful. Turkey that just fell off the bones was accompanied by mashed potatos, yams, squash, corn, cucumber salad, radishes, grapes and rolls...and HOMEMADE stuffing! I am SO full and I'm going to sleep for a week!

And for dessert, Bunny made the pies. There was pumpkin pie, pumpkin creamcheese pie (which is my personal favorite), apple pie and chocolate birthday cake. Which led to a chat about tradition...

Aunt Marlene always puts a quarter in the cakes she bakes. It's for luck. What a hoot!

This is the first year Aunt Marlene let me help out in the kitchen after dinner. I enjoy her so much, and I feel so privileged to be a part of her family's celebration.

Especially the chatting part.

Getting fed is just a bonus. I'll take it! :-)

(photo from www.thanksgivingabout.com)

The Tabors

(Image taken from http://www.crwflags.com/fotw/flags/si-184.html)

or

http://www.houseofnames.com/xq/asp.c/qx/tabor-coat-arms.htm

or

http://www.5dollarcoatsofarms.com/gallery/T/pages/image003.html

I guess I need to find out more about where we came from!

Michael said...

Don't forget that our name might be a truncation, with that fact hidden in our family (lots of folks are ashamed to admit to Slavic blood).

For years, folks asked me if Tabor was Hungarian. The only Hungarian Tabors I know about are Roma - another stigmatized group.

Just thought I'd muddy the water for you. :D

Serena said...

Thanks. My mind wanders to thoughts of hara-kari.

Actually, I came across published genealogies (not to be taken as written in stone, mind you; anyone can publish a genealogy) that trace our origins back to England. According to one, our ancestor came from Essex, England to Plymouth, Massachusetts in 1630. (Descendants of Thomas Taber 1924, compiled by George L. Randall, published by Higginson Book Company).

We really are mutts, though, in a manner of speaking. Hungarian is entirely possible. And then we have the Fassett line, connected by Great-Grandfather Charles Tabor's wife. They allegedly came from Scotland and were formerly known as the MacPhersons, having changed the family name to protect themselves from extinction by Cromwell.

And, of course, we have mom's roots in Ireland, Mexico and England.

When people ask me what nationality I am, I tell them the best answer I can give. "I'm American." 'Mutt' just doesn't have a very nice ring to it.

Michael said:

Woof. :D

Insight from Ma

"An 88 on your Accounting test this morning? That's not so bad."

"Yeah, but I'm sure I could do better."

"Sweetheart, combine that 88 with your other grades and you still have an A. Not that THAT is such a big deal. Your mother is dead, and I'd bet your father doesn't give a fig. STOP OBSESSING."

All right, I'll admit it. I'm being too hard on myself. An 88 is good. I'm a single mother, I work full-time, and I've got a full course load. I'm tired. I don't need to be perfect. I must be a bit kinder to myself. I think I will sleep in tomorrow.


Michael said...

Your Dad always thought a C was just fine. Remember?

Just go at a pace. The numbers don't matter anywhere near as much as the internal gains you are making.

Serena said...

True. I'm learning so much. And I'm loving Algebra!

More on Aging

My son...what a jokester...

"Mommy? Did they have TV back in the old days when YOU were a kid?"

Michael said...

No, honey, we pressed styluses made out of reeds into wet clay tablets in a script called "cuneiform." Then we baked the clay tablets in ovens until they were very hard. Then illiterate folks stole them to make stone walls and sidewalks for their houses...

Serena said...

It's true! It's true! You know, this morning he was asking me about the dinosaurs like I was there. It's hysterical. He says, "My mom is gonna be 42," and he makes it sound like I was there when Eve at the forbidden fruit. Unbelievable.

Michael said...

And the Hebrew-speaking snake. Hey - here's an article about the dinosaurs being wiped out by an asteroid.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20061201/sc_nm/dinosaurs_impact_dc

Now you can sound like you were an eyewitness. :D

Tracy said...

I know I'm a late responder; but I do have a good one for you!

The first time Teri saw an actual record (yes I still have a ton of them, unfortunatly I do not have a record player anymore.) Her comment:'Look at these BIG CD's mommy'

Oh and her face when she saw an 8 track....

Aging

(This is an Internet joke - I have no idea who to give credit to, but it sure made me laugh...wincingly.)

Have you ever been guilty of looking at others your own age and thinking, "Surely I can't look that old!"

I was sitting in the waiting room for my first appointment with a new dentist when I noticed his diploma hanging on the wall. It bore his full name and I suddenly remembered a tall, handsome dark-haired boy with the same name. He had been in my high school class some 40-odd years before and I wondered if he could be the same guy I had a secret crush on way back then?

When I got into the treatment room I quickly discarded any such thought. This balding gray-haired man with the deeply lined face was much too old to have been my secret crush... or was he?

After he examined my teeth I asked if he had attended Morgan Park High School.

"Yes, I did. I'm a Mustang!" he said, gleaming with pride.

"When did you graduate?" I asked.

"1959. Why do you ask?" He answered.

"Well, you were in my class!" I exclaimed.

Then that ugly, old, wrinkled son of a bitch asked, "What did you teach?"

Bumper Sticker

"If you think gas prices are high now, wait until after November 7th."

Too true to be funny.

Michael said...

Already reports are pouring in (mostly from Florida) of voting machines that will not allow a choice of Democrat (you select the Dem, the machine says you voted Rethuglican).

Ironic that we cannot call the UN to supervise our increasingly fraudulent elections.