The Turkey Day Journey and an Angel

When Barbara asked, "What are we going to do for Thanksgiving?" I stepped up to the plate---without thinking about my plate collection----or should it be collection plates?

Actually, it has turned out to be closer to the latter because my daughter-in-law has stepped up to the plate and offered hers. 

I'm happy to collect. 

You see my cupboard of fine china, beautiful crystal does not exist.  Most of what I did own burned in our house fire back in the 1980s.

At the time, we did not have replacement value insurance, so we basically replaced our house and basic necessities along with clothes for the family. 

Stuff like china and crystal took a back seat, and it's remained that way through the past 30 years.  I do have a set of Corel plates, and some glassware, given to me over the years from family members.  The glasses have diminished in numbers,  getting banged around too much in the kitchen sink.

Over the years, I've stocked my dish and silverware drawers, as needed, with flea market specials, and just last year my dear family outlaw Rose Marie gave me some bowls.  

So, to say my kitchenware is Heinz 57 variety is pretty much an understatement.  The bright spot is the silverware, real stuff, which my mother stipulated that I "guard" for the next generation. 

 If I have to find a lock box or open a giant savings deposit box to see that nothing ever happens to that segment of family treasures, I'll see to it.  

When Mother brought home the family Haviland a few decades back, she made it clear tht heads would roll if anyone so much as chipped a teacup or gravy boat.  

We've taken our lives in our hands several times since,  carefully cradling those pieces in our hands while wiping them off with dish towels after holiday dinners.  And, I think so far, we've managed a perfect record. 

Mother knew what klutz I was so she made sure Barbara and Laurie would serve as guardians to the Haviland.  I think she made a wise choice. 

And, the other day when we were discussing Thanksgiving dinner, and I told Laurie that I had only six matching plates for a group of 10, I loved her giant eye-rolling gasp when I added, "You surely don't want to haul the Haviland over to my house." 

I figured through her expression that she agreed.

So, over the past few weeks, I've been figuring how Thanksgiving Dinner at my house is gonna look presentable for the guests and meet the standards of holiday meals set all those years when my mother did the hosting. 

This year, I know she's up there, watching.  And, I could almost hear her gasp from the Heaven's above when, for a time, I had the notion that the pretty paper plates I'd purchased with big fat LIVE turkeys on them, would be okay with the heirloom silver placed on either side.   

Even the fact that I know from 4-H training to place the knife blades toward the paper plates wasn't gonna pack it.

And, those glasses (Laurie asked me if they were plastic) that I purchased from Wal-Mart to go with the few decent ones left in my cupboard, would be okay, even if they didn't quite match the four left in the cupboard that match the six Corel plates. 

It's definitely a numbers game, planning for holidays and digging through cupboards to see if any set of kitchenware will match the total of humans planning to eat from the dining room table. 

Oh, and that brings up another subject:  my table seats only six.  No extra leaves cuz actually the dining area is pretty small.  

"We're having buffet," I announced early on after offering to have the family to my house.  

Generally speaking, buffet sounds like things should be a lot easier, but still to load up a plate and then go sit on the Love seat when you're supposed to be enjoying the ambience of the family silver next to the Wal-Mart paper plates with pretty turkeys----that's not good. 

I knew that wasn't good when I woke up the other night at 2 a.m. and suffered through a wide-awake nightmare for a couple of hours. 

"Where ya gonna put 'em?  What's Annie gonna say if she finds out the paper plates were purchased from Wal-Mart, even if they are kinda purty? You've only got six straight-backed chairs.  Are people gonna have to sit with those loaded up plates in the rocking chairs where surely the cranberries will drip into their laps?"

As those topics and more dominated my wide-awake nightmare, I came up with a few decisions:  Bill can borrow some chairs from the Presbyterian Church.  That way cranberries won't be tipping at an angle.   

We can have a kiddie table with all the young 'uns----the youngest being 35. 

As solutions clouded away stressors, I eventually dropped off to sleep, only to have the first words  my mouth that morning aimed directly at Bill. 

"Can you borrow four folding chairs from the Presbyterian Church for Thanksgiving Day?" I asked.

He just stared at me, like he likes to do before coming up with an answer.  That's when I was going to remind him that our rakes had gone down to the church for work days. 

But before that came spurting from my mouth, he answered, "The church doesn't have any folding chairs."  

My incredulity was short-lived, as he added, "They're just straight-backed chairs."  

"Oh, okay," I said, "we need four straight-backed chairs."   He said he'd look into it. 

One problem solved. 

The whole disorganized potential mess came to a crystal clear and welcome conclusion an hour or so later when a dear, beloved angel walked through the door as she does every weekday morning while delivering the dogs. 

The knowledge that Debbie will loan me 16 real plates, all different solid colors, a set of pretty glasses, extra table cloths, four folding chairs and any serving bowls I need----along with our quick dress rehearsal that morning of how to set up a second table (not even a kiddie special) has set my mind at ease. 

Turkey day will be beautiful after all, especially after a thorough purging of that corner of the house where the dining room table sits.  Amazing how the removal of a few overflowing catch-all boxes opens up several square feet of needed dining space.

I'm actually pretty excited about serving ten family members for the big meal, and I'm figuring Mother would fully approve of how that set of silver is being used. 

Better angels always seem to appear when the going gets tough, and Debbie certainly came to my rescue. 

That said, it's another beautiful day here at the Lovestead.  Happy Sunday.