Aradia Zenobia

So Thanksgiving has passed and the dishes are finally done. We had some wonderful guests join us and w were having a delightful time, right up until one of them introduced a topic of discussion that left me with cold chills and icy thoughts.  He suggested we go around the room and share memories of our past Thanksgivings.

Of course I first pictured the many food fights, drunken speeches, and puking at the table stories from children's youth that would no doubt be recounted in glorious and graphic detail. Sure enough, they came rolling out amid much laughter and merriment - particularly the "Mom's Sweet Potato Recipe" story.

I froze, after all these were people we loved and respected at our table and what in the world would they think after hearing this particularly telling story?  I mean it had all begun innocently enough . . .

My mother had called as we were fixing dinner and by the time the yelling - i mean conversation - was finished I had hung up on her mid sentence and begun contemplating using the electric knife to carve through my wrists, or sticking my head in the oven with the turkey. Instead I opted for a few more glasses of wine as I continued fixing dinner. By the time I started the sweet potatoes I had opened, and nearly finished, a second bottle of wine and was feeling much better about life. The potatoes were mashed and ready for me to add the marshmallows for taste.  I picked up the bag, which unbeknownst to me, was fully open. I held it up by the bottom and promptly dumped 3 quarters of the bag straight into the pot.

I started giggling and whooped, "Ooooops!" rather loudly which brought all of the kids into the kitchen to see what happened. I tried to scoop some of the marshmallow out with the stirring spoon but they were already melty and I was terribly coordinated at this point. The kids nearly choked to death laughing at my antics and in an attempt to save my dignity (HA!) I went ahead and stirred in the large portion of marshmallows and tipped the whole thing into the serving dish and with a flourish (and without thinking) topped the whole thing off with the remainder of the marshmallows for serving.

After dinner (and another glass of wine) I announced I needed to lie down for a few minutes before cleaning up - at which time I promptly passed out and didn't come to until they were watching Frost the Snowman on television and waiting for me to have some pie.

It turned out to be the favorite dish of the day - and the most retold story of my life. The kids tell all of their friends each year as they recreate the dish themselves and share it at gatherings like we has this year.  I do have to admit that the more I hear the story, the more I laugh as well. And I know why my kids are always offerring to refill my wine glass all day too!

I need to start by telling you that I am a dog person. If only by proximity. We have 4 dogs, all rescue animals. My neighbor has dogs too. 5 of them . . . not counting the puppies. His neighbor has 4 rescue dogs ranging in size from miniature cranky pants to extra large and dumb, but friendly. Yet another neighbor has 3 small, funny looking dogs - a cross between a miniature pincher and a ferret of some sort is my guess. Still another one has two (very sweet) pit bulls, and somewhere behind e are two presumably large, very loud dogs. We are one very SAFE neighborhood let me tell you. I am not going to mention that we have a grassy island that runs down the center of the road in front of our house that might as well be marked "Town Dog Toilet", but we do.  I am the crazy lady that runs out in her robe a curlers inquiring as to whether or not their owners are going to "clean that up immediately".  Much to my families chagrin and my neighbors' amusement.

Anyway I've got a few kids and their friends who hang around and have thus become the unofficial 'dog patrol' for the neighborhood; rounding up escapees, locating lost pets and just basically making friend with all the local barketry. All of the neighborhood dogs generally love them all and listen to them well.  Except our older, diva dog, who is a little deaf and a bit of a snob. She sees them coming or hears them yell and simply huffs at the as she turns and takes off at her own pace to her chosen destination. On the other hand she seems to adore me.  Maybe it is because we are about the same size and age. But it's okay because that's just Jo, as we all say.  Except me, I say something closer to "that g*dd**n, hairy horse! What the f**k is her problem?" But we love Jo, Especially my 4lb female Maltese, but that is another story.

So not long ago, my daughter acquired a 'puppy' that weighed 47 lbs and wasn't yet leashed trained.  We were in the process of accomplishing said training one day when we noticed Jo walking down the street neat-as-you-pleas. My daughter stayed inside while I headed out.

Of course I had to go after her before she got hit by a car or something else she deemed too inferior to acknowledge.  I caught up to her easily as she turned and saw me and came running, knocking me on my ass and drooling all over me in the process. After I got up and brushed myself off we headed back home, Jo in front and me holding her tail (she wasn't wearing her collar). As we got to our house I let go and she trotted around the corner and, I assumed, to her fence.

Wrong! In the meantime my daughter had decided to go ahead a bring her dog out. Said dog took one look at Jo and completely lost her mind.  My daughter screamed and beelined for the door dragging the hysterical dog behind her. I came pell-melling around the corner to grab Jo before she ran when, in fact, she had actually just stopped dead wondering what was going on. Now her back comes up to my mid-thigh area soooo I ran right into her and executed a half gainer with a 3/4 twist over her back sticking a one point landing on my back in a pile of gravel with a fistful of dog hair.

As I cam to my senses I looked up and I saw out neighbor, a crust old scudder, staring at me open mouthed, my daughter standing on the steps not very successfully stifling a horse laugh and Jo standing stoically in the same place with a look of innocence on her face. Neighbor finally managed a strangled, "You okay?" as my still giggling daughter helped me up and Jo trotted off and went back through the gap in the fence from whence she escaped.

As the neighbor retreated and I stumbled up the stairs swatting my STILL giggling daughter I gave a great deal of though to becoming a cat person.

In order to achieve the seemingly elusive goal of the perfect family vacation, where fun, relaxation and familial bliss are the result, it requires more than luck and determination. Beyond the selection of destination, careful planning and travel there are several simple steps that one can take to ensure that a group trip becomes a cherished memory of togetherness. 

All wrapped up in the first step of any vacation are the basics of one’s plans.  There is the choice of where to go, how to get there, and where to stay once all have arrived. If there are children involved, there is the added task of making sure that wherever one chooses to go is kid-friendly and yet will have something for everyone to enjoy while there.  Once the destination has been chosen – for the purpose of this plan it will be Wacky-Land, a generic, amusement park attraction known for its rides, family entertainment and high energy fun, fun, fun – the mode of transportation to reach this tourist Mecca must be decided. Train, airplane or automobile, is best chosen according to the number of people, their ages and amount of personal belongings required and balanced by the overall impact on the vacation budget of each method. The same basic formula, plus the added considerations of convenience, amenities and location, will aid in the selection of accommodations for the family for the duration of the Wacky-Land adventure.

Next there is the seemingly minor consideration of sharing the plans with those joining the trip. That is, the fun of telling the kids. There are many schools of thought on this matter. One could involve the children from day one, allowing them to express their opinions, ideas and desires as the plans take shape around everyone’s input. There are those who prefer to make an announcement the day all are being herded into the car, with luggage, to begin the vacation. Still more opt for a happy medium, explaining the program a few days or weeks in advance. Each methods has its pros and cons, each group must decide for themselves what works best for their situation.

A major step in planning, one that can aid in keeping things flowing smoothly or become the first cause of tears and recriminations, involves packing.  Packing with children in mind takes a bit of creative thinking, a fair amount of patience and strong negotiating skills.  When packing clothing for kids, less is more, but one should try to get maximum mileage out of what is brought along.  Every item should be easily laundered, the better to rinse out at night and hang to dry in the shower.  If they are all mix and max, so much the better, dressing is easy and messy mishaps do not eliminate entire outfits. In this case one can usually get by with a couple of pairs of pants, several shirts and an overcoat or jacket. Along with that, plenty of underwear and socks, a pair of pajamas and a very comfy pair of shoes or two should be enough.  One’s negotiating skills come into play when it comes to packing traveling amusements.  Generally, children want to take almost everything they own with them on vacation.  For obvious reasons that is not possible. Talking them down to only one or two of their favorite stuffed animals, dolls or toys can be hard, but it must be done. Packing activity books, crayons, paper and music will take up less space, and offer more diversions anyway, and remember – there are always games one can make up that require nothing more than one’s eyes, ears or hands to enjoy.

Now with all the prep work done, one is on the road and tempted to think that all the potential for trouble has been left far behind. Wrong.  There is still the destination itself to deal with. Take heart, though, with a little awareness and minimal effort any possible problems can be anticipated and averted before they become painful issues.
The timing of one’s arrival can make the difference between a jolly, happy well-rested, little group and a surly, sleep-deprived, over excitable bunch. Arrive too early and spending the rest of the day at the park is pretty much unavoidable, too late and everything will have to be postponed until the next day. Arriving shortly after lunchtime allows one plenty of time to get to the room, select or assign sleeping arrangements, use the facilities and freshen up. One can then proceed to the park, take a stroll around to check out the set up, maybe experience a few of the rides and return to the room for a good night’s sleep in preparation for a full schedule the following day.

Making the most of one’s time at Wacky-Land is easy if one keeps a few simple things in mind.  Essential to the experience is setting aside time for breaks each day of your visit. An hour or so nap break in the afternoon has saved many a vacation and many a vacationer’s sanity. While it is a good idea to have a plan to help one fully enjoy all the park has to offer, it is an equally good idea that one is willing to deviate from that plan. Things may come up that are more tempting than what is listed in the plan; one must go ahead and do them, it is a vacation and doing what one wants to do is what it is all about. Don’t be afraid to split into smaller groups for a while as well. If Dad and little Billy want to ride the Mega-Fast-Mountain-Coaster and Mom and little Sally want to ride the Happy-Fun-Singing-Boats, then by all means split up, ride the rides and then meet up again and share the experiences with each other. The top of the list item should read, above all, “HAVE FUN!”

As one comes to the last day of vacation, spirits may be sagging at the thought of leaving: this is the time to acquire souvenirs. A souvenir, remember, is a small token that helps one to recall an experience, it is not necessary to bring home one of every trinket offered in the shops. To make the trip home less dreary, one can have a roll or two of the photographs taken developed prior to leaving and they can be shared among the group on the way home. Include this final portion of the trip as interesting and essential to the entire process: continue to take photos and videos to record the end leg of the trip as well. Make sure to build in a day or two after arriving at home to decompress and readjust before returning to a full daily schedule.  Allow the experience to sink in and fade gradually. Have the kids make a display about the trip, or let them watch the home movies or look at the pictures. Sit back and realize that while the goal of the trip was to survive, that goal was not only reached but it was surpassed. All survived, thrived and returned with happy memories of fun, laughter and family togetherness.

   Entertaining - as it is defined in the dictionary - means, "To receive as a guest, esp. at one's table; show hospitality to."  Entertaining - as it affects our household, is something decidedly different!

            As the holiday season begins to surround me, I am, for some inexplicable reason, overcome with the urge to throw parties, invite family for extended stays, and just generally do a great many things that I really should know better than to be doing!  My inability to pull off a truly elegant affair (Or even a simple get-together) with aplomb is the stuff of legends.  A family reunion does not find my kin fondly reminiscing about childhood pranks and laughing warmly at inside jokes.  No, those present are much more likely to be snorting, guffawing and rolling around on the floor with hilarity over the latest or largest of my famous 'Fetes that Flopped'.  Oh, a jolly group they are too, as they wipe away tears of merriment and gasp out their personal accounts of attending one of my disastrous to-dos.

            I suppose I really should have caught on early in my party career that I wasn't destined to be a Martha Stewart.  My first attempts at party giving were definitely less than successful.  (Actually the first was a dinner party for 12 - only my husband showed up, and I could tell HE didn't want to be there.  The second was a bridal shower for a friend, only the bride, the groom and her mother showed - the wedding itself was called off the following week.  A sign?  You tell me.)  But I was intrepid, and a bit stubborn.  So I kept right on trying, much to the dismay of my potential guests and the glee of my story telling family.

            Things did improve, sort of.  People began to show up anyway.  But now I actually had to feed these people, and show them a good time, and get them out of my house at a decent hour.  I'm still learning.

            But the story that gets told most often actually involves a party I DIDN'T plan.  It started with my invitation to family for the holidays.  We lived 12 hours away from our nearest relatives and so had invited them to come for Thanksgiving and Christmas whenever they could. (It works out best that way.  We have the most children, and for some reason most of our extended family recoils at the notion of being invaded by a rust covered station wagon that spills forth, after 12 hours of captivity, 4 crummy looking kids (with attitudes) 1 pretty crummy looking dog (with a bladder problem) and two REALLY crummy looking adults (one of whom has PMS and the other of whom has a wife with PMS) and all of the paraphernalia a trip entails.  Go figure.

            This particular year, no one had indicated any interest in making the trip.  So we went ahead with our Thanksgiving dinner as usual.  It was about 2:00 p.m. and we had just finished over indulging.  We suggested to the children that they could do the dishes, and they had retired to the kitchen to engage each other in a fight to the death over who had to clear and who had to scrub.  They were working on expanding their vocabularies by exchanging colorful epithets concerning their various grooming habits and work ethics.  The two younger children were shrieking and racing between the dining room and kitchen grabbing food off the table and either feeding it to the dog or rubbing it in their hair. 

          My husband had removed his shirt and was leaning back in his chair clad in his undershirt and unbuttoned pants, thoughtfully scratching his stomach, while I, more fashionably dressed in my torn sweats and his old flannel shirt was much more animated - hollering threats at the kids in the kitchen and making futile swipes at the ones running by, as I simultaneously attempted to eat everyone's unfinished desserts.

            I had just noticed that all of the children were now in the living room engaged in a thunderous pillow fight. I was pretty sure that the dishes were NOT done, (The fact that they were still on the table was my first clue) and my spouse and I were in the middle of a heated debate on whether or not it would be sacrilegious to teach the kids to play "Hark the Herald Angels Sing" on their armpits, when the door burst open and there in my entry were my parents, two of my sisters, my brother, 2 brothers in law and my sister in law, as well as five of their children.

            Needless to say, I was unprepared.  Not only did the immediate area resemble a nuclear test sight, but, as we weren't planning on company, and it was a holiday, I hadn't made the kids clean up their rooms (which made them eligible for 'blighted area' status) AND I hadn't done any laundry for about a week (with a family of six - well let's just say it is NOT a pretty sight!).  As they slowly entered, carefully picking their way around the debris, no one said a word.  Finally, my Ms Hostess personality kicked in, "I could sure use a drink!" I blurted out, "Does anybody else want one?"  It wasn't exactly what I meant to say, but it did the trick.  Everyone started laughing and the kids resumed their pillow fight, the guys retired to the family room to see if they could harmonize their armpit chorus, and the ladies helped me polish off the wine and the pumpkin cream pie.

            We spent the entire weekend visiting and I didn't get to the laundry until the following Monday.

            You know what?  I looked up 'Entertain' in the dictionary again.  It has another meaning as well -"to hold the attention of agreeably, to divert; amuse."  Hey! Maybe I'm better at the entertaining thing than I thought!  HMMM, maybe I'll plan a party....

Insanity
      of the
  Zen kind