My mom and I had resigned ourselves to Thanksgiving dinner at a local restaurant (we’re both so over cooking holiday dinners), but a lady she sings in the choir with asked us over to eat with them. JH and her husband S moved last year from my mom’s side of town, clear across to the other side of town. My mom had been there once, but not the way we went. Still, she had it plotted out and she came by to pick me up. I took the first batch of snowflakes with me as a hostess gift, and they were a hit.
It was a bit tricky to find their house. Our town is laid out quite logically and typically, on north-south streets, odd house numbers are on the east side of the street, and even house numbers are on the west side of the street. Their street runs north-south and their house number is an even number, so one would expect it to be on the west side of the street. No soap. The houses on the east side predictably had odd house numbers, but there were no houses on the west side of the street. Typically numbered streets have the lowest numbers in the north, and get higher the further south you go. What we didn’t realize was that the crossing street at the end of that block was 1st Street, which is where the system changes. The next cross street going north was 1st Place, followed by 2nd Place, etc., and the numbering system from that point is exactly reversed. When we got into the next block, the houses were still all on the east side of the street, but they had even house numbers in reverse numerical order to the usual “lowest number to the south, highest number to the north” sequence. Fortunately, the house we were looking for was right at that corner, and we’d found it.
It’s a lovely house, somewhat smaller than their previous house, but with nice high ceilings, shutter blinds on the windows, a gorgeous, fully appointed kitchen, and each of the three bedrooms has its own en suite. They’ve accessorized the decor with SH’s antique electronic devices including an old 1920’s pole microphone. (SH is an electrical engineer and has collected all sorts of vintage electronics).
JH is not real into cooking either and has little interest in doing it, especially since her husband S loves to cook and is very good at it. It was he who cooked the luscious spread. He even made the pumpkin pie.
While he cooked, we girls watched “Gone With The Wind” on TV, which was already in progress when we tuned in. My mom saw it on its first run in a theater when she was 12 (it made a huge and lasting impression on her), and she has seen it a gazillion times since. (I’m sorry to say, my mom has completely bought into that whole Cult of the Lost Cause thing which both the book and the film reflect, and can’t understand why they want to take down monuments to Confederate generals, etc. She is scandalized and personally affronted that the name of the high school my dad graduated from was changed because it was named for a member of Jefferson Davis’ cabinet.)(She’s 93. There’s no hope of my enlightening her. I’ve learned to just let sleeping dogmas lie.)
We had a traditional meal — turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, gravy, creamed corn , cranberry relish, — except biscuits for bread instead of white rolls. My mom was supposed to bring rolls, but realized at the last minute the frozen rolls she was planning to bring had been in the freezer quite a while and she was no longer confident of their freshness. The frozen biscuits, on the other hand, were recently bought, so that’s what she took. No matter. Bread is bread. It was a very delicious feast.
We had a delightful time with dear friends, and many things to be thankful for.
The Owl Underground 