Sharon's blog: Roses and birthdays and November rain

I wasn't going to blog this week, being busy with family and Thanksgiving which entails housework and grocery lists and early mornings and late nights. And I had a birthday, I always do, and the birthday always begins the holiday season.

I could easily do without birthdays.

It's rained for what seems to be weeks, though actually the sun broke through a few times. And it's warm. The sun and the warm don't fit the month but my roses don't seem to mind. This one was blooming Sunday for my birthday.

It's a little bedraggled, wet, droopy, looking much like everything else around here. Including me.

My brother told me they were making molasses back in the mountains. And I'll bet if it's cold enough, there'll be some hog killins' going on. A hog killin' usually followed my birthday too. And turkeys. Hens.

Back in those days the kills were necessary for survival, but oh boy, growing up with them sure placed me on the side of the animals. I still much prefer beans on my dinner table.

Anyway, it was my birthday that always started all the holiday activity, and the memories, both good and bad, haunt me every single November. I sure am glad I had a birthday rose to get me started in the right mood this year.

My son and grandson will be here tomorrow evening, my daughter is already here. My son is bringing a turducken, whatever that is, and promises to cook it. He usually keeps his promises. The rest will be up to my daughter and me; we're a small family so it will be a small dinner. I'm thankful they are all home with me, this will be the first time in several years that we've been together.

It's a big contrast to what I grew up with, and even contrasts to what my children grew up with, but time and life change things so I just go with the flow.

No sweet potatoes in orange rind shells with roasted marshmallow topping; my Aunt Iva always made them. No shucky beans, Ninna made them. And no hot yeast rolls all baked together and browned to perfection in Gramma Ell's oven. None of her deviled eggs either. Aunt Ruby brought ham or a pork roast and usually chocolate pie. Mom made the best butterscotch pies. There will be none of them either. And Mom's sage dressing. Somebody always brought a jar of homemade pickles and Ninna and Gramma Ell made gingerbread. 

Time. It sure has changed things.

I can still make sage dressing, we'll have lots of it to go with the turducken. I'll make my late husband's oyster casserole that's full of real butter and Ritz crackers and lots of coarse black pepper. And gravy to go with the strange turducken and over the mashed potatoes. My daughter is in charge of the broccoli and asparagus, and I'll enjoy doing something creative with the spinach, mandarin orange and black walnut salad. The deli in our grocery has nice fresh yeast rolls.

I might even bake a jam cake, or maybe try the one made from vanilla wafers, eggs, milk and coconut. My grandson and I might just bake gingerbread men with raisins for buttons and eyes.

I still have tomorrow to decide.

But first, I promised my son cheesy sausage balls. I guess I'd better get started.

Happy Thanksgiving!

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