You Can’t Enjoy It

I got tired last night.  When I get tired, it isn’t pretty.  There was no time for napping and plenty of time for imbibing and by the time the end of the evening was upon us, a time when one should be able to relax and enjoy the afterglow of a Thanksgiving feasts with the eight or nine good people who’ve chosen to stay behind, my eyes are like lead.  I splash a bit of water on my face.  Walk a departing couple out to the driveway to get some cool evening air.  But the moment I sit to rest of one of couches and it will only be minutes if that, before my eyes begin to fall. 

And this morning, the aftermath is of course, nearly overwhelming.  There must be three dozen half-filled wine glasses around the house.  Bottles, some empty, some unopened, plates of food that was never eaten.  Pies tins with a slice or two remaining.  I begin, as I always do with the turkey carcass.  Let’s gather up whatever meat remains. There’s always some down in here and soon there is a plate of dark meat and white meat that doesn’t quite amount to as much as I’d hoped, but will certainly suffice for a sandwich or three.

Down below, in the bottom cabinet there is a large cauldron that wasn’t used last night.  I fill it with water and set it to boil.  The skeletal frame and the drumstick bones and the uneaten wing bones can all //go inside.  I’ve a plate of half a dozen uneaten, glazed acorn squash.  Chop em’ up.  Throw em in.    But the sweet potatoes and the Brussel sprouts I scrape into the trash.  In the back are two bowls full of chopped herbs, one of fresh cilantro and one of parsley.  The cilantro I toss into a bag and place in the fridge and the parsley I let fall into the pot. 

I don’t think I’m alone when I say that my favorite Thanksgiving dish doesn’t happen on Thanksgiving.  It’s the Friday turkey sandwich that I enjoy most.  When you cook the meal, you can’t enjoy it.  You’re setting something up for others to enjoy.  The following day you’re not on point to please anyone but yourself.   I generally avoid sandwiches at lunch, as all the bread is fattening and unnecessarily filling.  Not today.  There isn’t any mayo in the fridge.  But if there was I’d use it.  Rather I slather mustard and cheese and some sprigs of spinach and pour a glass from half-filled bottle of white that’s in the fridge and sit down with my book and a bowl of my soup and two big turkey sandwiches and enjoy this day of rest, just like I was in the U.S.A. 

Saturday 11/21/18