A few weeks ago, there was an article talking about holidays in terms of handling them as a parent. It was superficially amusing, especially in terms of the male/female dynamic in coping. But Thanksgiving stuck with me, because it is the most food-centric. And by food-centric, I mean preparing dishes. Kitchen and prep time. Most of the others can be faked, and/or unless you live in a warm weather climate can be done on a grill — which sets up a better division of labor for the adults.
Which again sets up that male/female dynamic of cooking vs. grilling. Unless, you are like me, who handles both because my wife can’t cook to save a dying man’s life. She pretty much gave up after serving me a hockey puck (it was supposed to be a boneless chicken breast that she tried to roast in the oven(?)) as part of my birthday dinner during our first year of dating. She can handle baking, because it involves very specific instructions and no room for improvisation, but not anything that involves margins. But I digress.
The point is, for me, Thanksgiving is a hell of a lot of stress. Mainly leading up to it. Planning the menu. Figuring out what I need. Going out to get it (total Bill Parcells on this aspect). Thanksgiving is fine. I’ll happily work in the kitchen all day preparing the meal, drinking wine and whiskey. Letting people float in and out to talk, asking insincerely if they can help (I make the kids serve as prep cooks with peeling and cutting, so they don’t get out of earning the meal).
But everything leading up to it while squeezing in the crunch of work with a short week. FTS. I really should take the week off and make it easy on myself.
