I’m spending Thanksgiving with Carrie, rereading all her books, making it one of the best ever. Let’s hear it for great writing that peels off the page like a good yam, or ham, in Carrie’s case.
She writes a lot about her family, she calls, simple folk, making fun of their over-the-top celebrity, laced with Hollywood scandal that give or take, helped launch the National Enquirer.
Makes me me think of my own roots, other than the gray ones that could use a little tint.
My mother started cooking in August freezing along the way. My father had gotten her a restaurant size fridge that lived in the basement like the Jabba the Hutt of appliances (courtesy of Carrie), so the Orson Welles of turkeys, could have plenty of elbow room.
What our guests didn’t know was, it was from last Xmas, since the company my father worked for gave everyone a 24 pounder as a bonus, explaining a few stomach aches and the institutional size bottle of Tums my mother kept next to the turkey centerpiece made out of mums.
Tums, mums, you get the drift.
Toss in the other 14 courses and dinner was thawed and served complete with everything but a heart surgeon.
My mother, in her pastel shirtwaist that every year got a little tighter, was the Italian June Cleaver with a cocktail shaker that shook and shook and shook, so by the time dessert rolled around, people were passed out missing that pumpkin pie which meant, more for chubby me.
Yes, I was a little butterball before blissfully developing a food disorder, or otherwise known as, The Model’s Diet.
Them were the days alright.
Such sweet, warm memories, over ice.
There was also the time my father had a fight with my uncle over carving the turkey, his domain despite he was too drunk to be trusted with the knife now aimed at my uncle who, not drunk, called the police. When they came, my mother, after saying it was all a funny misunderstanding, plied them with wine and drumsticks, which did the trick.
Little did the group know I was taking subconscious notes to be used later.
I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves.
My eBooks, A New York Diary, Model Behavior: Friends For Life and Notes From A Working Cat can be found on Amazon.com. Thanks.