A Dollar’s Worth
By Alisa Dollar
It’s Thanksgiving again. I think time flies when you’re having a good time. Time flies when you’re having a bad time, it’s just in slow motion.
The reality is time flies faster as we age. So it’s really flying fast for me.
I’m being a good girl this year. It’s the first Thanksgiving in five years that I haven’t had a major surgery and I’m actually looking forward to Thanksgiving and Christmas.
I bought all the stuff for Thanksgiving even though it will just be husband and me. Oh and Max. He’s thankful too.
Husband says, “Why did you buy all that?”
I deflect by saying we’re having ham, not turkey.
He says we don’t need that. Meaning we’re trying to diet. I turn my back while putting away the goodies. He simply doesn’t understand “he” is dieting; I am playing like I’m dieting.
“I bought fake food, so don’t get all huffy about it.”
“You know the pre-everything---dressing, sweet potato casserole, green bean casserole and a new corn casserole.” I added, “The ham however is the real deal.”
While he picked up one fake frozen casserole to read the label, he comments under his breath that a fake pig might have less sodium than these casseroles.
Aren’t wives supposed to read those labels? I think they’re hazardous to one’s health. This is Thanksgiving for Pete’s sake, who cares what’s in them?
Trying to remain calm in my first year of being happy about the holidays with workable knees, shoulders and without a doctor or physical therapist harping on me, I count to ten in the only three languages I know how to count to ten – English, Spanish and German.
I for one am glad these local companies and throughout the U.S. put together these packages so I won’t have to have shovels to clear out the mess I make doing it all myself!
So what is a little sodium?
I’m on the verge of getting into his haughty little face, pointing my finger, telling him he hadn’t offered to prepare anything for Max and me.
Instead I just grabbed the casserole; put it and the rest into the freezer in the garage so he wouldn’t be nosing around the kitchen.
He’ll forget about that sodium when all the aromas hit his nostrils on Thanksgiving.
I’m sure of it.