Cinnamon scented WHAT?
Sixteen. That's how many we are at Casa la Rox for Thanksgiving Day. Forget enjoying the holiday; I've been ripping my hair out, trying to make sure all will be accommodated when they show for the big day of dining and 'fun.' Thank God everyone else is doing the cooking. The basement has been cleaned and converted into an acceptable secondary station for watching football. I've either bought or borrowed extra plates (5), extra flatware (a whole darn set), extra chairs (Can you believe I have 13 dining chairs in my house? Only needed 3)... even an extra drop-leaf table. Not exclude the runs to the store -- Extra paper towels, serving pieces, napkins, a few glasses and, of course, toilet paper had to be bought and stowed.
With all of the preparations, I began wishing it was just over already. But God has a funny way of putting the spirit back into any holiday, and reminding us to slow down, stop worrying about spots on the bathroom mirror, and just enjoy what's right in front of you.
Enter my mother and her many gifts. Mom's not joining us for Thanksgiving, so I talked her into paying me a visit Sunday. You see, Big'n and I inherited a large dining table and five chairs (I believe the sixth met an untimely end years ago) from his late grandmother's home. We love what the furniture represents: Years of regular Sunday dinners at grandma's house, a family tradition that held on right up to her death, then extended beyond. Big'n wanted the items so badly and, wouldn't you know it, we were the only ones in the family who had dining room large enough to accommodate.
The table and chairs had seen better days. MUCH better days. Let me put it this way: I dreamed of an accident involving gasoline and a match. But Big'n was adamant. We managed to restore the table to its original glory over the summer -- no small feat -- and I made the decision to start tackling the chairs this past weekend. A day trip across the river and a visit to a fabric shop landed some gorgeous upholstery, and a few hours in the basement with stain, furniture polish... and some wood filler... brought the chairs back to life. Mom came to the house to find I was putting her to work, and we had a wonderful afternoon trying to figure out how to re-cover some particularly damaged chair backs and playing with the stapler and hot glue gun. It really was the kind of day she and I always enjoy together (Last month, it was crawling under her house to close the vents, but that's another story!). Project turned out beautifully.
Back to Thanksgiving for a minute. When I think of holidays, I think of cinnamon. I use cinnamon-scented stuff everywhere. Not only does it hide any unwanted odors lurking in the home, but to me the scent sparks nostalgia and reminds me how fun it was to be young and looking forward to Thanksgiving and, of course, Christmas. Cinnamon scented pine cones live in dishes and in baskets; I hang cinnamon sticks on my Christmas tree like they were icicles; and, just this week, I purchased a cinnamon-scented broom (of all things) -- a good-smelling, good-luck item that I plan to hang on my front door.
Well, the "hanging" part hasn't happened yet; I stowed the broom in the half-bath/laundry room for another day.
The half-bath/laundry room also happens to be where Harley and Mr. Cooper do their, um, when-nature-calls stuff. The litter box lives right next to the toilet (because it makes them feel more human - don't ask). The room is an approximately 7x7-foot space that does a lot of work for its size. Technically, it's also the guest bath, and the one my mother usually choose to use when she's at our home.
Of course, a visit to the restroom was in order before mom headed home Sunday. As I was cleaning up the sizable mess we'd created in the kitchen and dining room, she entered the restroom and closed the door. A minute later, the woman emerged, look me dead in the eye, and proclaimed,
"Your cinnamon scented cat turds are overwhelming."
I about hit the floor. I was laughing so hard that tears were streaming. I turned to Big'n and said, "And you wondered where I got the gift of random language." Of course, the conversation took a sick turn. You could probably dry those things and hang them on the Christmas tree -- but I don't want any surprise gifts for Christmas, mom said.
I'm laughing about it even now. Her single statement was so eloquently put, and I think it's safe to say that it will be the one thing I will never forget about that day! And, in a funny, not quite normal way, I know mom's random, Tim Burton-twist-on-the-holidays comment will get me through Thanksgiving this week. Amazing.
larox1
With all of the preparations, I began wishing it was just over already. But God has a funny way of putting the spirit back into any holiday, and reminding us to slow down, stop worrying about spots on the bathroom mirror, and just enjoy what's right in front of you.
Enter my mother and her many gifts. Mom's not joining us for Thanksgiving, so I talked her into paying me a visit Sunday. You see, Big'n and I inherited a large dining table and five chairs (I believe the sixth met an untimely end years ago) from his late grandmother's home. We love what the furniture represents: Years of regular Sunday dinners at grandma's house, a family tradition that held on right up to her death, then extended beyond. Big'n wanted the items so badly and, wouldn't you know it, we were the only ones in the family who had dining room large enough to accommodate.
The table and chairs had seen better days. MUCH better days. Let me put it this way: I dreamed of an accident involving gasoline and a match. But Big'n was adamant. We managed to restore the table to its original glory over the summer -- no small feat -- and I made the decision to start tackling the chairs this past weekend. A day trip across the river and a visit to a fabric shop landed some gorgeous upholstery, and a few hours in the basement with stain, furniture polish... and some wood filler... brought the chairs back to life. Mom came to the house to find I was putting her to work, and we had a wonderful afternoon trying to figure out how to re-cover some particularly damaged chair backs and playing with the stapler and hot glue gun. It really was the kind of day she and I always enjoy together (Last month, it was crawling under her house to close the vents, but that's another story!). Project turned out beautifully.
Back to Thanksgiving for a minute. When I think of holidays, I think of cinnamon. I use cinnamon-scented stuff everywhere. Not only does it hide any unwanted odors lurking in the home, but to me the scent sparks nostalgia and reminds me how fun it was to be young and looking forward to Thanksgiving and, of course, Christmas. Cinnamon scented pine cones live in dishes and in baskets; I hang cinnamon sticks on my Christmas tree like they were icicles; and, just this week, I purchased a cinnamon-scented broom (of all things) -- a good-smelling, good-luck item that I plan to hang on my front door.
Well, the "hanging" part hasn't happened yet; I stowed the broom in the half-bath/laundry room for another day.
The half-bath/laundry room also happens to be where Harley and Mr. Cooper do their, um, when-nature-calls stuff. The litter box lives right next to the toilet (because it makes them feel more human - don't ask). The room is an approximately 7x7-foot space that does a lot of work for its size. Technically, it's also the guest bath, and the one my mother usually choose to use when she's at our home.
Of course, a visit to the restroom was in order before mom headed home Sunday. As I was cleaning up the sizable mess we'd created in the kitchen and dining room, she entered the restroom and closed the door. A minute later, the woman emerged, look me dead in the eye, and proclaimed,
"Your cinnamon scented cat turds are overwhelming."
I about hit the floor. I was laughing so hard that tears were streaming. I turned to Big'n and said, "And you wondered where I got the gift of random language." Of course, the conversation took a sick turn. You could probably dry those things and hang them on the Christmas tree -- but I don't want any surprise gifts for Christmas, mom said.
I'm laughing about it even now. Her single statement was so eloquently put, and I think it's safe to say that it will be the one thing I will never forget about that day! And, in a funny, not quite normal way, I know mom's random, Tim Burton-twist-on-the-holidays comment will get me through Thanksgiving this week. Amazing.
larox1