The Turkey and The Mouse

Family time is always time well spent.

Thursday morning we wake up, shower and get ready to drive to Grandma's house. As I'm placing my homemade desserts in a bag, my father asks for the keys to my car. He needs to load the cleaning/lawn supplies into my trunk before we leave. Before the big dinner, he had planned to rank my grandmother's leaves and do some housework that she couldn't otherwise do for herself. But,we were taking my car? Grr.

Okay. I hand him the keys, praying he doesn't see the half-empty Malibu bottle in my trunk. He then gets on the phone with a few of his subordinates to ensure that the day's work is getting done. (Poor souls have to work on Turkey Day!) As I walk outside, magazines in hand, I mentally prepare myself for a relaxing two-hour ride. My father, however, politely seats himself in the backseat, returns the keys to me, and continues his phone conversation. I clinched my jaw so hard, I'm pretty sure I need some sort of dental attention. What was GOING ON?! I did not sign up for this, and neither did poor little Jada. She needs $600 worth of work on her sad little crank pulley... or something. She can't drive all these long distances!!! WAAAAAHHHH!

Fine. I have Paris pull up driving directions on her BBerry and we make our way down the interstate. Once we arrive, my dad, uncle and cousins begin yard work, and I assist my aunts with cleaning and cooking. Though Grandma had intended to bake two Sweet Potato pies, the responsibility was inadvertently delegated to me through a series of one-step directions. "Just peel the potatoes for me," she had said. "Okay, now add a stick of butter and two eggs," she called out from the bedroom. "Alright, now add the sugar and a little vanilla," she added. Well, what do you know, after I had mixed the ingredients they were ready for the oven. Ha! Grandma was slick!

Meanwhile, all the yard work had made my father thirsty. His thirst, however, could not be quenched by water, or the countless sodas we already had in the house. No. He needed lemonade. And, he needed me to leave the house to go buy some. Oh! And some ice cream while I was out. Never mind the fact that he was lactose intolerant, or diabetic. Sweet lemonade and Breyer's Ice Cream were necessities today. Also, never mind the fact that I had yet to start working, and thus had no income. "He would pay me back." [I have yet to see the cash from that promise.]

Fast forward and the tables are set, pretty much everyone had arrived, and we're simply waiting for those pies to be ready. Paris is busy fixing Grandma's TV so that we can watch the game as we dine. After all, what is Thanksgiving without a football game to consume our attention? She had almost figured out the problem when I saw something scurry from behind the couch to the TV.


"PARIS, GET UP!" I yell. It had been too big to be a bug; too small to be an acceptable household pet. Ugh. I thought to myself. We had ourselves a mouse. "What?" she inquired. "There's a mouse!" I called, retreating to the nearest chair. I needed something to stand on. At that point, everyone was alert. There was lots of commotion as we figured out what to do next. The lift the couch. The mouse runs to the front door. My uncle attempts to - eh - stab him with a garden hoe. He fails. The mouse runs under the corner coffee table. Three grown men are unable to catch and dismember him. He runs towards the bathroom. Dead end. He runs under my chair. I scream. He runs under the stove... and stays. Despite the greatest efforts of my dad, and two cousins, he stays put. Mind you, the oven is still on, and those pies are still baking. I hear a faint squeal and determine that Mr. Mouse has died under that stove due to the 350 degree heat. Well I hope, for my grandmother's sake, that he died... otherwise, that's just disturbing.

Fast forward through dinner (which was delicious) and everyone is in clean-up mode. We're all making take-home tin pans full of leftovers, exchanging hugs and saying goodbyes. Daddy, was tired, and even though I too had been on my feet all day, I would have to drive home. (Does anybody see where I'm going with this? I mean, really. WTF?)

So, I drive home, making pit stops to drop off my uncle, and drive through the college campus of my father's alma mater. We make it back, pooped. Dad and Paris are leaving in the wee hours of the next morning. Paris wants to catch some Black Friday deals back in North Cack. I try to be a good daughter/sister and stay up so that I'm alert and helpful when they decide to head back... but that plan fails. I'm barely awake to hug them when they finally decide to go. I wind up sleeping Friday away just so I can recuperate from the previous two days' unexpected events. But, I'm not complaining.

Although I had missed my mom's presence, and hoped my little bro had had a good time with his girlfriend's family, my Thanksgiving turned out pretty great. Dad and Paris had been nice to have around, even if only for a few days... and by surprise, at that.

It's true. Family time is always time well spent.