Thanksgiving: Been there, done that.
11:45 p.m.
We got away later than we’d hoped or dreamed on Friday, which is often the case with us, and didn’t arrive at Buddy Boy’s residence to pick him up until midnight, with another hour’s travel ahead of us to get to my sister-in-law’s place on Georgian Bay. We got there at 1 a.m., or thereabouts, and she’d left the door open for us, so we showed ourselves in and went to bed, totally exhausted. The next morning we hung around, not doing much (Buddy Boy actually slept in until past noon). I helped my SIL prepare stuff for the Thanksgiving feast, and we just relaxed. Hubby’s parents arrived around 1 p.m., his brother and his wife and their granddaughter came at around 2 p.m., and I escaped for a nap at 3 p.m., getting a couple of hours of solitude in before my niece and her new boyfriend showed up around 5 p.m.
Supper was at 6 o’clock, a veritable feast, with a ginormous turkey my brother-in-law had cooked in the “egg”, a ceramic barbecue of that shape, wild salmon done on the other barbecue for us guys, lots of different vegetable dishes, faux stuffing (it never actually stuffed anything), cranberry sauce (the salmon needed it, it was rather dry), and pumpkin pie and ice cream for dessert. Needless to say, I overate and overdrank (the cabernet sauvignon was flowing rather freely) and ended up going to bed much earlier than everyone else.
The next day, Sunday, we drove to Hubby’s home town where he purchased yet another classical guitar (a cheaper one that he can leave in his office to teach with and take on trips without worrying about it getting smashed or stolen), so Little Princess and I took Buddy Boy to buy him new dress shoes. We all dropped in on Hubby’s youngest brother, who had not been at the Thanksgiving dinner, raided the fridge for lunch, then were on our merry way to arrive in the city of my birth for 3 p.m., giving us enough time to get gussied up to go to my third cousin, one removed’s wedding at 6 p.m.
It was a Jewish wedding, which makes sense, considering my cousin and his bride are both Jewish, and the rabbi had a bad case of not knowing when to shut up (his words, actually). Otherwise, it was all right. There were way too many speeches at the reception, but the food was incredible and the band was fantastic. The reception hall backed onto Lake Ontario, and we could go out onto the terrace for a breath of fresh air clad only in our party wraps and not get a chill. Incredibly unseasonable weather for October.
As for my brother, he did not talk to me, as I knew he wouldn’t. I actually approached him as he was rushing past me, grabbed his hand and said, “Nice to see you! How are you doing?” He answered me in a friendly fashion, but Buddy Boy, who witnessed the exchange, said that his uncle had one of those “Oh dear, this is an awkward situation” looks on his face. Apart from that, he did not address me at all. He and his wife were at our table, as I knew they would be (she didn’t even acknowledge me), and I had many opportunities to call him by his name, ask him to pass the bread, or did he want the dip, etc. He responded only as much as he needed to, considering there were two ladies at our table who were strangers to us.
So, anyway, after we got home, I made supper then went out to belly dancing class, where we proceeded to spin around until I was extremely dizzy. It looks really pretty with the veil, but I don’t know how I’m going to do this. Now it’s bedtime. ’Night!
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