Dear Loyal Readers,
My deepest apologies for the tardiness of this latest installment of the blog that could [but shouldn’t have]. It is most embarrassing that this, my Thanksgiving post, should present itself on this darkest of days, Black Friday, but to have written about Thanksgiving 2010 without first having experienced Thanksgiving 2010 seemed an unfair swindle of sorts to you my thirteen extraordinarily steadfast readers who deserve only the best of bad blog posts.
And so it is with great delight that I introduce you to Thanksgiving with The Troi Family.
The Troi Family enjoys a humble Thanksgiving in the Portland suburb of Tualatin at my Uncle Gym’s condominium (name misspelled to protect the privacy of my Uncle Gym’s name). I prepare our Thanksgiving Dinner by journeying to New Seasons to gather the ingredients* for our meal.
*Gathering the ingredients looks like this:
Troi: Hi, I’d like to order your pre-made Thanksgiving dinner for 4-6, please.
New Seasons Employee: You again, huh? Haven’t you ever considered cooking a Thanksgiving dinner?
Troi: I’d like to order it with an extra pumpkin pie, please.
New Seasons Employee: You know, you could bake a pumpkin pie much cheaper than the price of our pumpkin pie, which is $10.99.
Troi: I’d like the free range turkey, but not the organic free range turkey. I’m of moderate income and I have a hermit crab to feed.
New Seasons Employee: You could go turkey-hunting. Those turkeys are pretty organic.
Troi: Please bill my Uncle Gym for this meal.
After having gathered the ingredients for our homecooked Thanksgiving, I make my way South and eventually come upon the tiny town of Tualatin. Sometimes I bring a significant other to my family’s Thanksgiving festivities, for example on Leap Year and when Republicans take control of the Senate; other years I go stag.
Something is in the air on Thanksgiving 2010, something that smells of insanity, because suddenly my formerly tranquil environment is disrupted by discordant melodies as my entire family breaks into song and begins flailing their extremities convulsively in a fit of what they appear to classify as ‘dancing’ while a screechy voice from the fifties spits out tedious tunes from a turntable. My family seems to think they’re having fun.
When the dinner has been reheated to perfection, The Troi Family ceases its dancing and heads to the kitchen to consume the food, and I take my opportunity to seize the turntable and hide it behind the couch in the living room. (If my family asks you for a Clue, it was Troi, in the living room, with the turntable.)
And of course, no Thanksgiving would be complete without my grandmother eating three bites and then hovering near the door insisting she needs to return to her assisted living home for their Thanksgiving feast, which is actually just Oscar Meyer turkey bologna and tater tots served on a cafeteria tray with a side of jello. Which is why this Thanksgiving wasn’t quite complete, because this was our first year without her. In honor of my grandma, I made sure to hover near the door, although my reasons were more related to the aforementioned extremity-flailing and bad music than to longing for a cold turkey bologna dinner.
And there you have it, straight from the source: Troi’s Thanksgiving Dinner 2010. Look for my next post: Black Friday: The Day Troi Burned the Leftovers, But Ate Them Anyway.