Saturday, November 26, 2011

Norman Rockwell Does Not Live Here...........

The table has long since been cleared, the dishwasher loaded, the leftovers stowed, Tom's carcass simmered overnight, turkey soup made, supped, and frozen.

There has been a rare sighting of the OC at the head of the table. The Prince of Carpathia faced him at the other end, with his Nursemaid in attendance, she giddy with joy to be dining on food not tasting like farina! There were not one, but two Sons, one Girlfriend, myself and the cat rounding out the company, though I hasten to assure you the cat was under the table....

The Prince was animated to have an audience for his stories. He fancied himself a wag and  master teller of tales in days long gone. Most eyes get glassy when he starts on the thousandth telling, but hark! Yon maiden, the Girlfriend, she of the limpid eyes and the spellbound look, thinly covering her desperation---he has found a live one and has pinned her in place with his own ancient blues. No pity from her Boyfriend who is enjoying her predicament. Oldest son, more tolerant, asks leading questions, tongue in cheek, as though any encouragement were needed! Other conversations fly back and forth, plates are refilled, wine glasses replenished, and if the Prince is a little miffed that everyone is not hanging on his every word he has learned to deal with it. He sees it as one of the more disturbing trends in modern society. But what can you do? The tales must be told, over and over and over again.

The  turkey was juicy, the mashed potatoes fluffy, the gravy tasty, the cranberry sauce tart, the sweet potatoes delectable, as usual, the new recipe stuffing uninspiring [back to the tried and true next year!] the green salad crunchy, a perfect compliment to the creaminess elsewhere.....Pumpkin praline cheesecake for dessert and no fear anyone would go to bed hungry.

Everyone behaved themselves [well, the Prince did try to get on his Obama hobby horse, but voices were raised and he doesn't have the strength to shout......] So yes, you could say that everyone behaved themselves.

There was no bloodshed. In spite of its ever present possibility, we do have much to be thankful for!

And so we gave thanks, with hearts hopeful for the future, and glad to be together in the present.

16 comments:

SmitoniusAndSonata said...

Heavens to Betsy! No bloodshed and that many people round the table ? I must have that Pumpkin Praline cheesecake recipe immediately.
And , meanwhile , you've got lots of soup to look forward to .
Bliss!

aubirdwoman said...

Happy Thanksgiving Molly.
Now you can prepare for Christmas. lol

Ali Honey said...

He he. That had a familiar ring to it.

jkhenson said...

Love to read your posts, as always! Felt like I was round the table, too! :) Happy Thanksgiving! Will you be visiting daughter soon?

lgsquirrel said...

Happy Thanksgiving. Glad there was no bloodshed ..... them stains are hard to get out.

Friko said...

Isn't that what family reunions are all about, namely, listening to the same old tales for the xth time?

You were all remarkably well behaved and your table would be just the one I'd chose to join.

I also read back a bit; my nest has been empty for a long time and I couldn't bear the thought of having it full again. I love the freedom to call my days my own, I've done the bringing up, the cooking and cleaning up after them; God forbid I should have to start all over again.

secret agent woman said...

We have our differences, but somehow at the family gatherings we are all able to put that aside and just enjoy the meal and the conversation. I'm thankful for that!

Julie's journey said...

Sounds wonderful, now for Christmas.

Thimbleanna said...

You're too funny. I'm very happy to hear that you all survived sans bloodshed. The food sounds delicious -- which totally defies the title of your post!!!

Relatively Retiring said...

What a brilliant study in Group Dynamics!

riseoutofme said...

No blood is always good. The true artist never leaves any clues.

Nablopomo??

God loves an optimist, I suppose.

Isabelle said...

How old is the Prince?

Isabelle said...

And what does the title mean? A cultural reference that I'm missing. I know who NR is, roughly...

Molly said...

Dear Isa-Scottishlassie-belle---The Prince is 90 minus 1 and though he claims, dramatically, to be "verry weak" the weakness does not seem to extend to his vocal chords! Norman Rockwell's paintings seem, to me, to depict impossibly perfect families where everyone gets along famously, the adults are all genial and big hearted and indulgently tolerant of the young folks; a cross word is never spoken, or even thought of; looking daggers at someone across the table would not even enter the minds of those sitting around his table.....Are you getting the picture? Draw your own conclusions on my title!

Pauline said...

Norman sometimes came to my house but he didn't stay ;) Glad you survived the holiday with everyone intact. Can't wait to hear your description of the fat man in the red suit.

rhubarbwhine said...

Family reunions and no bloodshed.
Unbelievable :)