Yes, yes, people, it’s time to feel sorry for me.
While I did have an awesome, spectacular birthday (thanks to CB taking me to Veni, Vidi, Vici, and my girls coming over to my house for appetizers and wine), the rest of my Thanksgiving vacation was not so good.
I woke up Wednesday morning with a horrid headache, upset stomach, and massive cramps. I checked my kitchen counter, and the seven empty bottles of wine (for eight people) were clearly indicative of my head and stomach. And the fact I was nearing the end of a birth control pill pack, well, check three for the cramps.
And so my preparations for Thanksgiving dinner got underway. I peeled potatoes, baked a pumpkin pie, stopped in the middle to curse getting older and being female, resumed with making candied almonds, chopping vegetables for stuffing, a pause for sickness identification (and a short nap), then helped my dad bring in my new dining room table, glass coffee tables, living room rug and ceiling fans. Oh, and then we installed my microwave. (Lest ye think I’m recession-proof, my parents scored me the free furnishings from a model home they were cleaning out for the bank.)
But all was not well. I kept having to take a break on the couch. I popped more Advil. I drank more water. And at 3:30am on Thanksgiving morning, I realized that my age and my uterus were not to blame for me being ill.
I had the stomach flu.
Well, at the time, I thought I had food poisoning, which caused me no small amount of guilt, fearing I had sickened all of my wonderful friends on Tuesday. But when my mom and sister, who alternated checking on me while they were preparing my first Thanksgiving dinner in my new house (sob!), ended up sick as well, we new it was a traveling bug.
As a foodie, I am really disappointed. I hand-picked every recipe for every dish we were serving. I wrote out reminders to myself for the turkey (which would be my first ever cooked), and I had promised my mom that all she would need to do this year was show up with her ingredients, and I would let her relax with wine in hand.
Instead, Mom and Dad and Sister made it all. Lovingly, they followed my instructions and reminders, and said it was the most tasty and juicy turkey they’d had. The stuffing was flavorful. The pumpkin pie, a perfect combination of spice and silk. The mashed potatoes, a caloric bomb of flavor (when else can you indulge?).
But I didn’t get to enjoy it. So I guess I’m in charge for Christmas dinner.