Happy (burp) belated Thanksgiving!

Happy Thanksgiving!

My favorite holiday of the year, Thanksgiving, flew by faster than the food disappeared at the bountiful table, filled with family and friends and savory treats. It started early, 4:00 a.m. By 8:00 a.m., four pies (two pumpkin, one apple, and one chocolate), made entirely from scratch, I might add, had been baked and were cooling on the windowsill in the kitchen. Krus came out to the kitchen and asked Maeg if the goal was to eat the 23 lb. turkey all in one day!

The day sped on as the turkey roasted, stuffing was made, potatoes boiled and mashed, etc., etc. As family and friends arrived, activity in the kitchen reached a fevered pitch (controlled chaos, I assure you), and viola! By 8:00 p.m., we were strolling around the neighborhood, trying to make room for dessert, enjoying the fresh autumn evening air, burping and farting, and just generally enjoying ourselves.

It was a very lovely day. I am most grateful for my family and friends that were able to come. I missed Taylor and Racquel, and thoughts of them popped up in my head many, many times, despite the hectic antics in the kitchen. Grateful for all the help in the kitchen and the unconventional clean up later. (Thanks, Cathy!)

The priceless scene? Watching little Johnny use a pressure washer in the backyard, in the dark, to rinse all the dishes after dinner, as our plumbing/pipes decided to take a very leisurely trip to "You are soooo screwed now", "Go ahead, just try to unclog me", and "You'll never get these pipes unclogged".

Of course, being the handyman extraordinaire, little Johnny handyman did get the sink and pipes unclogged, eventually. The picture above is little Johnny, enjoying the cranberry sauce as a little one. Cranberry sauce has always been his favorite part of the Thanksgiving dinner.

Baby baby oh baby banana fanna...

I had a dream last night that Maeg was in labor for exactly 7 hours and gave birth to a baby that weighed exactly 7 pounds! She does not have pre-eclampsia, and is doing fine. No labor yet.

No baby yet, but maybe that's a good thing, as they have yet to agree on a name for the baby. I, of course, can conjure up some very silly and inappropriate names, but that's not really helpful in the eleventh hour. The dilemma here is that both Maeg and Krus want to choose a name that sounds beautiful and has meaningful connotations in both English and Indonesian (and maybe in Javanese, also). Keeping one foot in each culture (American/Indonesian) presents some fairly interesting name choices. I am staying out of it. I already tried to pry out of Krus the baby's name when Maeg announced several weeks ago that they had agreed on a name (I guess it eventually was vetoed), but they weren't going to share that information with anyone, for fear of ridicule, giggling, or otherwise negative reactions.

Now I had a mission. I tried to get Krus liquored up so he'd spill the beans. In typical Javanese fashion, he gave me a name, all right. Now that I look back on it, I see that he answered too quickly. It didn't even take a lot of cajoling, pleading, or even liquor. I was smug with my knowledge, smitten really, and flounced back into the house to announce to Maeg that she could keep her little secret, because I already knew the baby's name. When I told her what Krus had told me, she laughed and said that was a name that Krus had invented on the spot! Apparently, Javanese people will tell you anything to appease you, whether it's factual or not. Such a clever man, that Krus!

Happy birthday, my dear friend, Dean Bliss. Miss you immensely. Love you even more. Since we still haven't thrown ourselves the 50/45 combo party, maybe we'll make it to the 55/50 party.

A toast to life, young and old(er)!

Now that I've gotten the absolutely squeaky clean bill of health, having endured the UP and DOWN (if you are reading this and you are over 50, you most certainly know what the UP is...the DOWN is a peek down the throat), as well as surviving a nasty bout of bronchitis, I'm ready to celebrate. Nothing screams good health like a good, strong shot of one's favorite libation and a smooth cigar, eh? Forget the low-fat, high fiber, fresh,unadorned and unsaturated crap I normally ingest. Nope. It's time to break out the party favors (maybe shots of really fine tequila), fabulous food (especially my son-in-law's version of Thai/Indo/Spanish rice), great friends, a fire in the fireplace, and perhaps some intellectual banter regarding the interesting and fun properties of quantum physics, the black hole, and the atom accelerator, as well as some strategically played poker (I need to work on my poker face, or lack thereof...maybe I'll start wearing sunglasses like the pros do on the poker tourneys on television).

We are now officially on Baby Watch 2009 (Maeg's now confined to rest, relaxation, and calm surroundings, thanks to her high blood pressure, protein in her urine and possible pre-eclampsia). We'll find out Tuesday if she's going to need to have labor induced that day/evening because of the possible pre-eclampsia. I asked the baby to please wait until priority registration is over at school (Thursday would be fine; Tuesday and Wednesday, not so good), but, as usual, who listens to me, anyway? The little darling is already on his/her own little timetable.

Oh, ooops. I almost forgot the list of things still to do. We can cross off baby quilt (done), switching rooms with Maeg and Krus, so they have enough room for the bassinette and all things baby related (done), curtains in my new, cozy bedroom (done, and quite lovely, albeit simple, if I do say so myself), bag packed (mine, not Maeg's) for the hospital with various and sundry items of interest to keep me occupied (oh, who am I kidding? I pack for vacations 15 minutes before I leave, why change my habits now?), invitations to Thanksgiving dinner (done), read the labor and delivery book to refresh my memory (still pretty fresh images, 25 years later, but in the spirit of things, done).

Still to do: Paint my new, cozy bedroom (decided to do this after I sewed and hung the curtains and pictures on the walls), curtains for little Johnny's room and Krus and Maeg's room, collaborate with Maeg on designing and making the birth announcements, and finish the heated and demanding letter to the landlord (why is that so difficult for me?). Since the letter is the only thing that doesn't cost any money, guess which one I will work on today? Bingo. You guessed it. The letter! Wish me luck.

Think positive and healthy thoughts for Maeg and the baby. Fortunately, she is almost 38 weeks, so the bun in the oven is just about done anyway. We're just waiting for the little thing in the turkey to pop up, telling us the turkey/baby is done and ready to greet the world. (I've never in my life made a turkey with that little thing that pops up, but I hear it's a popular option for many people). Maybe, just for shits and giggles, I'll call the Butterball Turkey Hotline and pose some inane question for the operators, helpfully standing by to assist with your turkey-related queries. Bon apetit!

The fever and fervor of Andy Warhohl, Peter Max, Magic Elixir

Imagine my surprise, upon waking early Sunday, to find myself in a feverish state. No, I didn't overdo it on Halloween candy or drinks, or anything, really. Then I thought back to the previous two days, filled with driving and waiting (took Maeg to the City for her doctor's appointment) and waiting and driving in miserable traffic, cleaning, shopping, and remembering how even the coffeecake at Hobee's didn't taste right, although I forced myself to plow through the entire piece, bite by bite. Yep. I was sick. Darn it! My usual ploy of starting to feel like I am coming down with something and diving under the covers for 8 or 10 hours, after hastily gulping down a daily vitamin that I only remember to take when I'm feeling awful, to resurface a healthy person, actually didn't work this time. Dr. Mom's prognosis: bronchitis with a chaser of ear infection(s).

My young, handsome physician confirmed my diagnosis. He also told me I should take a few days off work, offering to write a note. I declined the need for a note. (How old am I?) The last time I took a sick day off was when my dad had a heart attack, a couple of years back. I don't DO sick time. Ever. However, since H1N1 has struck fear and loathing in the hearts of so many, I decided maybe the young, handsome doc was right. He also told me to feel free to take the cough medicine he was prescribing EVERY FOUR HOURS. Since I was hacking up fur balls at that point and fairly confident that I cracked at least one rib from coughing, I toddled home, antibiotics (he called them the "big guns"), cough medicine, and an inhaler in tow. I cracked open the magic elixir and took the prescribed amount, one teaspoon. Not tablespoon, mind you, teaspoon with a little "t". Really, just a dribble or a thimble full. How could a little thimble full of something be so powerful?

Wow! This combo of fever and codeine is amazing! My dreams are very, very vivid, and sometimes a little wild when I have a fever. While I almost always dream in technicolor, my dreams don't usually resemble a Peter Max poster or something Andy Warhohl would create. Except right now they do. They have circles in them. Many, many circles. About the size of a penny. Some are opaque, some are translucent, and some even unravel or uncoil themselves. I'm drifting around on a cloud, but the cloud tastes like icing or frosting on a cake. It's not sticky or yucky at all. Actually, it's very comfortable and pleasant. I'm not really flying (after all, it's not LSD, it's just cough medicine), but I'm not walking, either. Floating, really. How very civilized of me. No matter how many times I wake up, I continue to dream of circles, circles, circles.

I'm confident that the circles mean something, but I am having such a fabulous time, I don't really care what the meaning is. Just keep that magic elixir coming, baby.