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Thanksgiving is here and for the most part, the cooks have stopped complaining about how crowded the grocery stores have been. I made a trip Wednesday and although I spent the most time in the wine department, I also whined when I saw the line at checkout. I always try to get to the Express Lane. 15 items or less. You survey those in line and realize two things: The people can't count and most of them should be standing in line at the Exercise Lane. But I DON'T WANT TO BE RUDE, so let's move on.
By the way, one international note: HAPPY TURKEY DAY is not something they are telling each other in Russia. I fondly recall my youth on this day. We hoped it would snow and sometimes it did. That made the drive to my Uncle's house even more terrifying.
My uncle had the family's only TV set and we made the 80 mile round trip to watch the Aggies and Horns play. We were in Illinois but even there it was a big deal, so big around here it doesn't exist anymore. My uncle Max and my dad would begin the celebration by drinking lots of beer and whiskey. I was convinced it had something to do with how long it took the turkey to cook. Most years we never got to the turkey as it was either not thawed or cooked to look like the coal we put in the furnace. In fact, one year I GOT MY FIRST TASTE OF PIZZA due to the chef's ability to only get the creamed corn on the table before midnight. I do not miss those days, but would give anything to have those wacky relatives back with us. I gotta see if the PEORIA CENTRAL VS. MANUAL game is still on Thanksgiving. Happy to all.
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