Constructive Criticism Just Isn't Appreciated
My parents are hosting Thanksgiving this year. They have for most years in the past and there are many family traditions associated with the event.
Some of them we haven't had for a while: my Mom clogging up the garbage disposal (an activity that Shorty took over for a few times), the burning of the forgotten rolls in the oven and Grandma yelling at us to turn off the TV.
Some are still around: last minute trips to the grocery store, Steven and Shorty yelling at each other in the kitchen about cooking techniques and timing, the fight to get to sit at the kids' table and my battle to get there at the last possible minute to help with dinner but not get trapped there all day.
Shorty decided this year (and he did it once before) to cook the turkey on Wednesday, carve it then reheat it on Thursday. Steven and I don't like the idea at all. The house lacks the turkey smell and I think the turkey dries out. Plus, it's fun to pull pieces off the carcass every time you walk by it.
Apparently, we complained one time too many and Shorty snapped. He's now made the whole meal preparation our responsibility. I think he's going to cave and want to take over on Thursday. He won't be successful as Steven will delight in telling him (loudly), "Get out of our kitchen!"
It will be our kitchen temporarily since we haven't also been told to physically host in addition to cooking. Good thing, too. I would be hard pressed to fit 15 people in to my house and even harder pressed to cook a meal for all those folks in my tiny kitchen.
This is going to go one of two ways. Either Shorty will miss doing it so much that we'll be back to status quo next year or he's going to decide it's a lot more fun to sit on the sidelines with a Martini and critique our efforts. I'm hoping for the former.
Some of them we haven't had for a while: my Mom clogging up the garbage disposal (an activity that Shorty took over for a few times), the burning of the forgotten rolls in the oven and Grandma yelling at us to turn off the TV.
Some are still around: last minute trips to the grocery store, Steven and Shorty yelling at each other in the kitchen about cooking techniques and timing, the fight to get to sit at the kids' table and my battle to get there at the last possible minute to help with dinner but not get trapped there all day.
Shorty decided this year (and he did it once before) to cook the turkey on Wednesday, carve it then reheat it on Thursday. Steven and I don't like the idea at all. The house lacks the turkey smell and I think the turkey dries out. Plus, it's fun to pull pieces off the carcass every time you walk by it.
Apparently, we complained one time too many and Shorty snapped. He's now made the whole meal preparation our responsibility. I think he's going to cave and want to take over on Thursday. He won't be successful as Steven will delight in telling him (loudly), "Get out of our kitchen!"
It will be our kitchen temporarily since we haven't also been told to physically host in addition to cooking. Good thing, too. I would be hard pressed to fit 15 people in to my house and even harder pressed to cook a meal for all those folks in my tiny kitchen.
This is going to go one of two ways. Either Shorty will miss doing it so much that we'll be back to status quo next year or he's going to decide it's a lot more fun to sit on the sidelines with a Martini and critique our efforts. I'm hoping for the former.
