It was an unusual Thanksgiving, with more running back and forth, with all hands having medical conditions or maybe even medical vans, then the annual turkey trots.
If those celebrating, as best they could, could trot at all.
Dad has been in a nursing home since summer, and mom came down with Covid on the Thursday before the holiday — one of a handful of people would could have been visitors, from both near and far, family members and relatives of those they are dating. And even running into the issue, they’d find later, on their other side that evening or the next day. It apparently is a thing again. Varients not very much vanquished.
So it was hard to transport dad, as most van services were on holiday or very expensive for it, and mom was in quarantine almost up to the day, taking rapid tests daily, (and the pink line got lighter but still existed), to see if she would even be able to attend at the (now-annual) feast at my brother’s house.
— What is it just now at Kwik Trip, with men even on our coldest days in their not so much slimy as its too cold, but slimly strapped — like a lady’s New Year’s Eve shoe, but that’s getting ahead of us — flip-flops of rubber, and short-shorts and sleeveless shirts of decidedly non-wool. And at a store across the street also, but a grocer, so no coats available to buy.
Not that many days earlier, as the rain and if not that just the cool got closer to freezing, there were not only a few men in T-shirts — and even a couple still in yes, baggy shorts — but the first sights of women wearing coats, even in long form, and bigger then usual boots.
Again goin’ downtown … Although now with XMas seen all over, it earlier had shown off, often, off-white although not quite oblong pumpkins, or could they be gourds, as to borrow a marketing catch phrase, you are gourd-eous, although in evil makeup. Even she said that back on the past fright night. But we have just recently seen yellow pumpkins, too. And on all kinds of different fronts, of buildings, there had been flashy orange on a black background, the Halloween colors beheld. Red and green would have to wait, until … —
As an acquaintance had jokingly said, back it the days when it was even less of a laughing matter, Happy Covid.
Or as mom had put it when getting back from the doctor and eventually (it was quick although sick) summoning the energy to call me, not just send a text, “It’s gonna be a ho, ho, ho, holiday!”
So it was a grind, but at least no ground turkey, rather the real bird showed. There also was offered to me, nextday when I could go back to moms, some pickle and pimento loaf, also often called olive loaf, that she bought, our family’s version of lefse, but I do actually love both. The squirrels would have to settle for some scattered Cheerios on the back patio, and nearing the end of my stay, mom was going to sweep off All That Remains, but one of the critters beat her to it, gathering up the last nugget that had been meant for the birds.
Mom would normally pick me up at the park and ride, after I exited the more-expensive-by-the-day bus, but my brother now would have to squeeze me into his schedule right after work, from home, on that Monday. Texts were shared back and forth: Don’t worry, I can wear extra sweatshirts and camp out there until the last conference call is placed. (But the bus was running late, so he got to the lot ahead of me.) How long would I stay, if at his place, as he suddenly would have a full house? Do I get the cool downstairs back bedroom? If I can’t shop with mom, could I with him? (But forget on Black Friday). And also find an ATM? Not to be more of a bother to my brother, but could he take me to the library so I could use their computer, with which I am more familiar? And lastly, something I hesitated to put forth, could her mild Covid actually serve as a bit of a respite for mom?
Later back at the nursing home, we boarded an elevator to go to the second floor, and were told you had to hit the blank button in tandem with the one with a big No. 2, or the contraption would not go. One more transportation snag? Good thing I was not flying solo.
But there was a saving grace. For the first time in ages, the night before not Christmas but this big meal day, I actually watched an entire college basketball game. As in start to finish. Go Badgers, in what was called a game for the ages. More rough though, than what’s in a turkey gizzard. And a bit of the Milwaukee Bucks game too! And even some of the Packer-Lions game on the day itself.
That noon, more or less, a fave for me was my niece’s sangria, made with apple cider and a bunch of not bananas, but many different kinds of “cooler” fruit piled in for full flavor. I loved most the mixing of apples and oranges in her medium-size vat. It reminded me of the tall-as-a-person tequila cylinder at the Agave Kitchen, that one filled with all kinds of Mexican-style veggies for marinading, if that’s the right word.