Weather Forecast


Andrea Langworthy's column: Sometimes a day defies planning

Was your Thanksgiving all you intended? Or, anything but, like mine?

My husband and I had planned a quiet day for ourselves. He would pick up already-cooked side dishes, pie and a small turkey breast the day before. On Thanksgiving we planned to read the paper, watch the parade and a couple of movies. Perhaps, play Scrabble before we feasted.

When my hubby returned on Wednesday, though, the food looked so good, and there was so much of it, I suggested we eat some for dinner that night.

The next day went as planned until my spouse anno-unced after the parade that the Packers were playing. He wanted to watch the game. I waved good-bye.

Once I got involved in something else, however, things changed again. The Pack was losing. “We can watch a movie if you want,” he said.

A bit later, my stomach began lurching. “I don’t feel well,” I announced. He pressed his hand against my forehead and said I felt warm. That seemed odd because my teeth were chattering.

That night, I sat in bed eating cheese and crackers. My husband sat before a TV tray covered with a plateful of turkey and fixings. He’d offered to eat in the other room or forego the feast altogether but I demurred.

The following morning I felt fine. Even so, breakfast was saltines and water. Two of our children and their families were coming for lunch. I wasn’t taking any chances.

Because of my husband’s recent back surgery, he has strict orders not to lift anything over 10 pounds or do any repetitive bending. So, as people arrived, it was up to them to add the extra leaf to the table and retrieve card tables and chairs.

Once the table was set, I sat down. Not long after, my head was spinning, my stomach was lurching again and I asked my daughter to help me get up.

“I’m not sick,” I told everyone as I slowly made my way to the bedroom. “Not catchy. I think it has something to do with eating Thanksgiving dinner a day early.”

There were to be 13 of us for pizza and mostaccioli Friday afternoon. One extra because our soon-to-graduate college granddaughter brought a “plus one.” Her new fella. She brought him into the bedroom to meet me.

The doorbell rang. The food was here. I listened as everyone loaded up their plates. Listened to the back-and-forth banter. The jokes, the teasing, the laughter.

Every once in a while, I hollered out a comment but mostly I listened.

When my oldest granddaughter came in to check on me, I commented that her new boyfriend is sweet. Said if she wanted him to join us for Christmas, he should.

Another granddaughter came in. We chatted about her first semester in college. The tables and chairs had been put back, the plates rinsed and stacked. Soon, we were joined by the others.

Someone brought in a box I had requested from downstairs. More repartee as the package was opened and unpacked. I had a holiday mug for everyone — the boyfriend included — and promised cocoa mix and chocolate-covered peppermint sticks in time for Christmas.

One-by-one, they hugged me and said good-bye. The new beau approached. I reached up to give him a hug. “I’ll be here for Christmas,” he said.