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It was our first Thanksgiving in our new apartment.  My parents flew in from Wauwatosa, Wisconsin on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving.   Charley’s mother and kids were driven down from Connecticut Thankgiving morning. 

When we moved into the apartment the former owners were nice enough to leave us a table and chairs…the table has two leaves to expand it but only 4 chairs.  I was a bit concerned that we would have enough seating for everyone but then remembered that the cart I use for the microwave has two stools hidden inside of it and there was the piano bench and once wooden folding chair.  I was also thinking that we should move the table into the living room…but it worked out that everyone could fit in the kitchen…thanks again to the renovation that the former owners did that made more open spaces in the apartment. 

I preordered the turkey from Fresh Direct.  It was a 13lb no antibiotics added turkey.  It had been a few years since I handled a raw turkey and I forgot how much handling the neck and giblets freaks me out.  My mother made many turkeys but I don’t remember the “extra parts”.  I discarded the giblets but did use the neck for the gravy stock in a bath of free range chicken stock.  The first time I was planning to make a turkey my co-worker told me about using cheesecloth when making the turkey.  I used this method again this year and the turkey was perfect.  I also used the cheesecloth to strain the gravy.

 The menu also included pepperidge farm stuffing, mashed potatoes (yukon gold), green bean cassorole (yep the kind with the canned fried onions and cream of mushroom soup), dinner rolls, cranberry/pear relish ( a new recipe), and pumkin pie (from the Libby’s Pumpkin Pie recipe…flawless).  Everyone was happy and stuffed.

Charley spent a lot of the day playing the piano.  After dinner my Mom played Monopoly with Norma and my Dad played Chess with Alex.  We also watched the Green Bay Packers.  Lily talked non-stop until she fell asleep in Charley’s big chair.  One of our favorite neighbors stopped by for a bit.

It was a great day.

I am a dangerous backer…

I spent many years driving VW’s; I had a Rabbit, Golf, and Cabrio.  So, I was used to driving small cars.  Now I drive a 1995 Volvo Wagon.  It’s a TANK.  Don’t get me wrong, I love the car, I have never had one handle so well in the snow before…but, when it comes to backing up it’s a whole nother animal.

So, today I was in a parking lot outside of Best Buy.  After starting up the car and putting it in reverse, I noticed a Jeep Cherokee with it’s reverse lights on as well.  I paused and then started backing up very slowly.  I was halfway out of the parking space and then I heard a “HEY!” and saw a brown suede jacket directly behind my moving car.  I slammed on the breaks and this “chic” with her husband and daughter and one other teenage looking kid were directly behind the car.   As they sauntered past she was learing at me.  I rolled down the window and said; “Why are you walking in the middle of the street?  There are two cars both backing up!”  She responded…”you should look and if you hit my daughter then it’s your loss, not mine.”

NICE

I don’t think I have ever walking behind a car that is backing up.  Ever since moving to the East Coast I just can’t believe the sense of entitlement that pedestrians have.  No one in my neighborhood seems to know the meaning of the orange hand at a crosswalk.  Does she step in front of a moving train?  A moving bus?  Why then take your 8 year old child and walk behind a car that is backing up!

It’s up there with when I see a mother pushing a stroller and has the stroller with a baby half way into an intersection.

If you want to be an idiot and walk into traffic, at least do it with out your child!

So, I have a fabulous new job.  Not so new, I’ve been there 6 weeks.  I am working as a “field engineer” for a computer consulting firm.  My job takes me to different client sites mainly below 59th Street.  I was taking my lunch break the other day and I went to my favorite spot near a client I visit often.  It’s called Cafe Europa…a chain of eateries where you can get a “pressata”, their name for a pannini, fresh made pizza, or a “make your own” salad bar.  The way the salad bar works can be as intimidating as ordering from Starbucks for your first time.  First grab the size and kind of greens you want, hand it to the guy with the big metal bowl and tongs and then tell him what you want added.  Then he mixes it all up and asks you what dressing you want and then pours it all back into the plastic container you started out with.  When they are busy it makes quite a clatter.

Anyway, I usually opt for the pressata.  And the other day I was waiting in line to pay when the woman in front of me said to the cashier: “you should tell them to stop making so much noise, it’s really annoying”.  The cashier rolled her eyes and told the woman a manger was standing behind her and to tell him.  So she did!  After she stepped away I said to the cashier: “Then how the hell are they suppose to make salads”.  Jeez…

 …only in NY

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