Travesty Thy Name is Thanksgiving

The remainder of the meal was less spectacular.

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Many of you know that I’m a tetraplegic (a.k.a. quadriplegic). My situation is not as bad as you may think. Many spinal cord injuries result in much more debilitating restrictions than the ones I have. On the other hand, there are day-to-day challenges.

My wonderful wife, Robinette, has been my primary caregiver since the injury. She, and time, have helped me recover many abilities, some more successfully than others. For example, I can’t do the Vulcan V-salute any longer. I can, however, do the middle finger salute, not as quickly as my preinjury days, but the effect is the same.

Recently there’s been a role reversal of sorts. Robinette sustained a painful back injury, which has been slow to heal. It’s so bad, that she needs a walker and can’t be on her feet for long. To salt the wound, she came down with a nasty virus that’s had her miserable for weeks. All of a sudden, I’m more capable than she is in some respects—it’s my time to shine.

Meal preparation and clean-up, plus setting up the morning coffee are now my responsibility. Admittedly I don’t do these things as well as she does, but beggars can’t be choosers.  We’ve been eating pretty simple fare under my watch: cereal, sandwiches and soups. Anticipating Thanksgiving, I’d hoped to raise the bar and present a traditional meal.

Thanks Give 2015

The result of my culinary effort was oven roasted yams and Brussel sprouts seasoned with garlic pepper, stuffing and turkey breast with gravy, accompanied with a very nice French Rosé. A picture is worth a thousand words. Perhaps, but in this case it’s a poor witness to the truth.

rose wineMy experience with rosés’ has been limited to White Zin and Boone’s Farm. If given the opportunity don’t hesitate to sample Chateaue d’Esclans Domaines Sacha Lichine’s Provence rosé. The wine, a gift from our daughter, was spectacular.

The remainder of the meal was less spectacular.

I’d wanted to buy a turkey breast but none was in stock when Christina, a longtime caregiver and friend, took me shopping last week. So I’d purchased a prepackaged turkey loaf with gravy in its own pan—the pictures looked good. The product had more in common with Spam than turkey breast. Actually that’s not fair. Spam’s better. My Stove Top stuffing texture lay between uncooked French toast and wet Playdough, but saltier. Not as salty as the gravy though.  The Brussel sprouts were under cooked and barely edible. I’m proud of the yams—they weren’t revolting.

Robinette gave me an A for effort, but left a full plate. She always gives me an A for effort and I appreciated this one as much as all the others. But, just between you and me, I hope she’s in charge of next year’s Thanksgiving. If she isn’t, Domino’s will hear from me.

I’m thankful Thanksgiving is past.


© 2015 David P. Cantrell

Author: David P. Cantrell

I'm a retired baby-boomer enjoying life.

3 thoughts on “Travesty Thy Name is Thanksgiving”

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