Thanksgiving Cheer

Can you feel the tension rising? Within a few short hours, which will quickly pass like a speeding bullet train, you and I will be immersed in a Jell-O mold of family members. We will gather around a table of thanksgiving with people to whom we are alledgedly related, but with whom, in our opinions, we share little resemblance.


Then we'll retire to the living room to watch football, sitting on the sofa next to snoring cousin Edgar, who has his hand tucked into the unbuttoned waistband of his pants. We'll find ourselves asking, "Who is this cousin Edgar? Where did he come from? How can I possibly share a genetic history with him?"


The scene is surreal, but survivable with a few nips of the Turkey Tamer (from Peterson's Holiday Helper by Valerie Peterson).


Ingredients:
5 pieces candied ginger (each about 1/2 inch square)
2 ounces Wild Turkey (or other bourbon)
1 & 1/2 onces pear juice


Directions:
While hiding in the pantry, place 4 pieces of candied ginger at the bottom of a cocktail shaker. Add the bourbon and get all your pent-up holiday aggression out by mashing the heck out of the ginger. Fill the shaker with ice and add the pear juice. Shake until condensation has formed on the outside of the shaker and you feel no more irritation at Aunt Ellie's probing personal questions. Strain the mixture into a glass filled with fresh ice or, if you are feeling particularly desperate, drink the concoction straight from the cocktail shaker. Put the 5th piece of candied ginger on a toothpick for garnish.


As everyone's holiday experience is different, some readers may choose to skip all the above steps, save money on the ingredients, and just down a shot or two of the Turkey and return, refreshed, to host his or her guests.
Servings: 1


We must remember to pace ourselves, however, since this is only the beginning of holiday mayhem. I recommend seeking aid and solace and a few spine straighteners, for those truly difficult days ahead, in your own copy of Peterson's Holiday Helper: Festive Pick-Me-Ups, Calm Me Downs & Handy Hints to Keep You in Good Spirits.


Combine Valerie Peterson's guide to capturing the blissful days of yore with a few chuckles from If Mama Don't Laugh, It Ain't Funny, and you have a recipe for making memories, some of which you might not remember and some of which you will never forget.

Above all, have a Happy, Happy Thanksgiving filled with gratitude for all the blessings in your life, including snoring cousin Edgar.

This Just In

If you live in the Atlanta area:

From November 12 through 14, Star 94 listeners will meet some of the biggest “stars” of all – the patients at Children's Healthcare of Atlanta – during the seventh annual Star 94 Cares for Kids Radiothon, presented by ForestersÔ. Between 6:00 a.m. and 7:00 p.m. on November 12 and 13 and between 8:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m. on November 14, listeners will hear not only the voices of Star 94’s personalities, but also the courageous voices of the children and families whose lives have been touched by Children’s.

The Birthday Blog

Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me, Hmm hm hm hm hm hm hm, Happy Birthday to me.

[The sound of a record scratching.]

Oh crap, that sound gives away my age.

[Substitute it with the sound of a blue ray DVD cracking and a Prius putting on its breaks.]

I can feel time slipping through my hands like a rope in a tug-o-war contest. This morning my 12 year-old, right after I blew out the more than a hundred candles flaming on my makeshift breakfast birthday cake presented to me by my children, asked, "How old are you this year?"

"Twenty-seven," I said, solidly, my tone daring anyone to question it.

He dared. "Haven't you been 27 for like the last four years in a row?"

"So?"

"Mama, you're so old it's contagious," he replied, as if orienting me to reality.

While the look of horror still masked my young, wrinkle-free face, my oldest son hunched over and started grabbing his throat, saying, "I'm aging, I'm aging," in a crackly voice.

I put my fingers in my ears and sang, Hmm-hm Birthday to me, Hmm-hm Birthday to me, Hmm hm hm hm hm hm hm, Hmm-hm Birthday to me.

They yanked that tug-o-war rope through my hands so hard, it ripped the happy right out of birthday.

Southern Girls Living Fearlessly - Double Chin Cure

Pretty is as pretty does.

Every girl wants to avoid the dreaded double chin. It's very unattractive.

Yet, for some reason, we tend to inflict it upon ourselves. The double chin trap is an easy one for many Southern Belles to fall into, particularly those of us lacking confidence in our own beauty, accomplishments, or station in life.

I have a remedy, however, for the double chin: Don't look down on other people. It's as simple as that. When a girl looks down on someone, it causes her to draw her head back and tilt it forward to get a good gaze down the bridge of her nose. This action squeezes unsightly loose skin between the neck and head forming a ghastly double chin.

TODAY'S ASSIGNMENT: In the mirror, pretend that you are looking down on another person and observe what it does to your striking beauty. It's not attractive is it? Today is the day to start building yourself up by focusing on YOU, being the best you can be at whatever you've chosen in life, instead of concentrating on how you're better than someone else. Remember, pretty is as pretty does and pretty does not look down on others.

Good Advice

My oldest son is now 14 years-old and taller than me. I've resorted to making him sit down when I need to fuss at him. I can't stand looking up to give him the evil eye.

Anyway, like most teenagers, he has a quick temper with his siblings, who can aggravate him just by walking through the room. Usually his anger is accompanied by a sharp insult, such as, "You're a dork," or physical contact in the form of a near trip, or something similar.

But on one recent occasion, when his youngest brother completely blanked on the teen imposed rules, "Don't go in my room. Don't touch my stuff. Don't breathe the same oxygen I'm breathing," my maturing lad took a moment to give his irritating sibling a solid piece of advice:

"You've got to think, even if it hurts!"

A piece of advice he drove home with a firm planting of his knuckle on the smaller child's upper arm, leading the smaller one to wisely observe, "If it hurts worse than not thinking, I don't want to go there."

Southern Girls Living Fearlessly - Survey

Every southern girl loves those magazine quizzes. Just for fun, take the

Southern Girls Living Fearlessly Survey

The Way Boys Think

I've recently been enlightened on the way boys think, when they think at all, which isn't so often. But when they bother to put the effort forth, they actually are very calculating about it.

Last Saturday, we had a long day trip in the car, so I told my children to take their backpacks and work on their homework during the ride. My 6th grade son sat in the back, right behind my seat, with his backpack open, books pulled out. I could hear him rustling papers and zipping his pencil case open and shut, sounds that assured me he was diligently completing the task at hand.

Or so I thought.

Monday, I received three e-mails (plus a fourth on Tuesday) from his teachers, telling me my child had failed to turn in his assigned weekend homework. How could this be? I saw him put his backpack in the car next to his seat. I heard him doing his work.

Well, you can bet I asked him for an explanation. "Did you lose your homework?" I questioned. He shook his head, No. "Did you leave it in your locker?" I interrogated. Again, he shook his head, No. "Were you afraid your answers were all wrong?" I continued, trying to get at the source of his negligence. Another head shake, No.

"Well what then?" I exasperatedly asked. "Did you just not do it?"

The look in eyes was all the response I needed. "What were you doing the whole time in the car then?" I exclaimed.

"Drawing pictures," he admitted.

"Drawing pictures! Why didn't you do your HOMEWORK!" I shouted. I know I shouldn't shout at my children, but it just happened. I couldn't stop it.

"I forgot to bring home the books I needed."

"So, why didn't you tell me that? Why did you wait for your teachers to e-mail for me to find that out?" I was still yelling.

Sheepishly, he replied, "Because I thought you would fuss at me."

Now, I know what you're thinking. It sounds like it sort of snowballed on him and he was just a kid being a kid; that he didn't have the ability to see into the future and weigh the consequences of his omission, that he was living in the moment, as children do, and the moment caught up with him.

I assure you, information has surfaced that tells me otherwise. Boys plot and plan these things. He knew exactly what he was doing. I am certain of this because I heard the following conversation between two boys in the 6th grade hall of my son's middle school:

Boy 1: I tell you, I've learned something, Buddy.
Boy 2: What's that?
Boy 1: The less stuff you tell your parents, the less trouble you get in.

And there you have it. Boys, when they bother to use their brains, bank on the risk of only getting in trouble on the back end, instead of owning up to their actions and risking getting in trouble on the front AND the backside.

I'm living proof that the boy approach works, because, although I raked my son over the coals, he only had to endure it in the aftermath. Where as, if he had told me of his predicament in the car, I would have chided him into a fetal position then and then again on Monday when I was reminded of it by his teachers.