I Am Thankful for Mimosas
And so Thanksgiving was, as usual, fantastic. It was also, as usual, exhausting and full of cluster. But I am, as usual, very thankful for my wonderful friends and wonderful San Francisco ... and mimosas.
Wednesday, 7:30pm: A questionable call the evening before a three day gauntlet run in San Francisco is to have a dinner guest over. Right? Because then the things you are not doing between 7:00pm and around midnight or so include packing, sleeping or getting cat supplies ready. But dinner is lovely, and by the way there is a fantastic recipe in last month's Cooking Light for a holiday beef stew with Guinness and cranberry sauce. And it is amazing. And my dinner guest is the kind of super sweet dinner guest who shows up with flowers and wine and then offers to restore an antique picture of my grandmother that has some water damage, so that made me fine and content with not packing, sleeping or getting cat supplies ready in the evening.
Thursday, 4:30am: This is when you leave for the airport if you have a 6:00am flight on Thanksgiving morning. It sounds worse than it is in real life. I mean, it's early, but the airport is also peaceful. You're not battling crowds at check in or security or in the parking lots. You can grab a cup of coffee and sit and enjoy McCarrrean's free wireless. I mean, it's early. It means you haven't slept the night before, but it's got its benefits. That is all.
Thursday, 8:30am: This is when you arrive at Chez Halff and take a one hour nap, acting like that hour is going to make a difference.
Thursday, 9:30am: This is when you leave for Chez Kennelco. You were supposed to arrive by 10am, but you know that's hopeless. You say before you leave that no matter what time you get there, you are staying only for an hour because you need to nap before people come over for Thanksgiving dinner.
But then you get to Chez Kennelco, and you are having a wonderful time because Ken and Eleanor and their beautiful children are so lovely and so engaging. And it is sunny and warm outside and so Ken takes the kids out to play football and you get to spend your late morning sitting in the sun and watching kids toss a football in a perfectly manicured back yard on Thanksgiving day. And Eleanor is cooking in such a way that it is required that you pick fresh sage from her backyard garden, which somehow feels like the most appropriate Thanksgiving day chore altogether. And everybody has stories and it's warm in the kitchen and the kids are playing and it's all perfect. And you're a little bit jealous, except that you have to check yourself and remind yourself that your Thanksgiving is wonderful too. It's all good and perfect and delightful.
Thursday, 1:00pm-ish: Is when you arrive back at Chez Halff. You offer to help in the kitchen, and graciously Halff allows you to cut some brussel sprouts. But that is it! No working in kitchen de Halff. It's good that he, as he says, knows his limitations. Around 3ish, Rice, Michael and Ho show up.
And it's the best Thanksgiving in years.
Firstly, the food is amazing. The turkey is rubbed with sage and pancetta butter. Halff has made rich folk green bean casserole for me. There are pies, oh yes, there are pies.
And the company is spectacular. We laugh all night long. We play cards, which involves more laughing and the obvious realization that I can't count, as I'm the only one required to take notes to remember my score. Here is my favorite story of the night, as told by Michael:
"So I'm in the bank, and the teller is a cute girl, but, you know, I'm gay. And she and I are talking, and it's all like we like the same band and all, and we're both being friendly, you know? And so she says, 'Hey, that band is playing next week. We should go.' And I'm all like, 'Does she not realize that I'm gay?' But whatever. So I say, 'Sure. Can I bring my boyfriend, too?' And, no joke, she pauses, and then there's this huge sigh and she's all like, 'Suuuure. Siiiiiigh.' And I just keep on filling out my deposit slip. And she all keeps talking, and I swear to God what she says is, 'Mama told me. She said - you're thirty years old. Don't move to San Francisco, you'll never find a man. Mama told me.'"
Best.Thanksgiving.Story.Ever.
It really was so good. Every part of it. Thank you everybody.
Friday, 10amish: Is when shamus shows up for breakfast and Black Friday shopping. Breakfast, in case there hasn't been enough food yet, is homemade waffles with Halff's homemade cherry cranberry sauce over them.
Pumas are bought, and then...
shamus gets horribly, horribly ill. Horribly ill.
I'm just going to say that Friday is a day we will not recall. There is dry heaving. There is a need for Gatorade just to rehydrate what is lost. It's, well, not too pretty. I love you shamus! I do!
Saturday, 10amish: Is when you arrive at Chez Paul & Dex. It is also when the first round of the Jocelyn, Paul & Dex holiday tradition of mimosas served in huge pint glasses is served.
Holiday presents are exchanged. I get a bottle of Godiva Chocolate Liquor, which is as good a present as you can get. I text the following to Shimmy:
"Paul and Dex just gave me Godiva chocolate liquor, so we'll be drinking high end chocolate orange martinis at Bring the Naughty, Leave the Nice!"
To which Shimmy texts: "I love Paul and Dex."
Don't we all, don't we all.
We meet up with Dale for brunch at some mildly pretentious Castro brunch place, where we feel that the correct follow-up to mimosas is a bottle of wine.
Then we go back to Chez Paul & Dex where there is another round of mimosas and many, many hours of video game. And anime. Video games and anime. The afternoon pretty much looks like this from where I'm sitting.
And then we pass out. It's perfect.
Dinner is in the mall -- yes, the mall -- with lovely AshleighE. Here's a picture, taken specifically because we were in the Muni station and I said, "Hmmm. Soft lighting in here. This would be a very flattering place to take a picture of us.
One would think that that day was full enough, and involved enough drinking, but then Paul and I head out to Trad'r Sams to have cocktails with Melis and Howie. By cocktails, we mean a Black Magic, which pretty much puts us on our asses. But Melis and Howie look amazing. Here's my favorite quote from Melis, who is clearly the most awesome mother in the world (and I mean that seriously - because she knows who she is and doesn't let the fact that she has kids change her core, even if it has to change her outward behavior sometimes).
11:00pm: Is when you arrive back at Chez Paul and Dex and cram in four hours of sleep before calling a cab to leave for the airport again at 4:30am.
It was a perfect, perfect, perfect Thanksgiving. I love San Francisco. I love my friends. I'm thankful for at least two years where I could spend Thanksgiving there with them. I'm thankful, also, for mimosas.
Applesauce had a good time, too. And then he passed out drunk.
Wednesday, 7:30pm: A questionable call the evening before a three day gauntlet run in San Francisco is to have a dinner guest over. Right? Because then the things you are not doing between 7:00pm and around midnight or so include packing, sleeping or getting cat supplies ready. But dinner is lovely, and by the way there is a fantastic recipe in last month's Cooking Light for a holiday beef stew with Guinness and cranberry sauce. And it is amazing. And my dinner guest is the kind of super sweet dinner guest who shows up with flowers and wine and then offers to restore an antique picture of my grandmother that has some water damage, so that made me fine and content with not packing, sleeping or getting cat supplies ready in the evening.
Thursday, 4:30am: This is when you leave for the airport if you have a 6:00am flight on Thanksgiving morning. It sounds worse than it is in real life. I mean, it's early, but the airport is also peaceful. You're not battling crowds at check in or security or in the parking lots. You can grab a cup of coffee and sit and enjoy McCarrrean's free wireless. I mean, it's early. It means you haven't slept the night before, but it's got its benefits. That is all.
Thursday, 8:30am: This is when you arrive at Chez Halff and take a one hour nap, acting like that hour is going to make a difference.
Thursday, 9:30am: This is when you leave for Chez Kennelco. You were supposed to arrive by 10am, but you know that's hopeless. You say before you leave that no matter what time you get there, you are staying only for an hour because you need to nap before people come over for Thanksgiving dinner.
But then you get to Chez Kennelco, and you are having a wonderful time because Ken and Eleanor and their beautiful children are so lovely and so engaging. And it is sunny and warm outside and so Ken takes the kids out to play football and you get to spend your late morning sitting in the sun and watching kids toss a football in a perfectly manicured back yard on Thanksgiving day. And Eleanor is cooking in such a way that it is required that you pick fresh sage from her backyard garden, which somehow feels like the most appropriate Thanksgiving day chore altogether. And everybody has stories and it's warm in the kitchen and the kids are playing and it's all perfect. And you're a little bit jealous, except that you have to check yourself and remind yourself that your Thanksgiving is wonderful too. It's all good and perfect and delightful.
Thursday, 1:00pm-ish: Is when you arrive back at Chez Halff. You offer to help in the kitchen, and graciously Halff allows you to cut some brussel sprouts. But that is it! No working in kitchen de Halff. It's good that he, as he says, knows his limitations. Around 3ish, Rice, Michael and Ho show up.
And it's the best Thanksgiving in years.
Firstly, the food is amazing. The turkey is rubbed with sage and pancetta butter. Halff has made rich folk green bean casserole for me. There are pies, oh yes, there are pies.
And the company is spectacular. We laugh all night long. We play cards, which involves more laughing and the obvious realization that I can't count, as I'm the only one required to take notes to remember my score. Here is my favorite story of the night, as told by Michael:
"So I'm in the bank, and the teller is a cute girl, but, you know, I'm gay. And she and I are talking, and it's all like we like the same band and all, and we're both being friendly, you know? And so she says, 'Hey, that band is playing next week. We should go.' And I'm all like, 'Does she not realize that I'm gay?' But whatever. So I say, 'Sure. Can I bring my boyfriend, too?' And, no joke, she pauses, and then there's this huge sigh and she's all like, 'Suuuure. Siiiiiigh.' And I just keep on filling out my deposit slip. And she all keeps talking, and I swear to God what she says is, 'Mama told me. She said - you're thirty years old. Don't move to San Francisco, you'll never find a man. Mama told me.'"
Best.Thanksgiving.Story.Ever.
It really was so good. Every part of it. Thank you everybody.
Friday, 10amish: Is when shamus shows up for breakfast and Black Friday shopping. Breakfast, in case there hasn't been enough food yet, is homemade waffles with Halff's homemade cherry cranberry sauce over them.
Pumas are bought, and then...
shamus gets horribly, horribly ill. Horribly ill.
I'm just going to say that Friday is a day we will not recall. There is dry heaving. There is a need for Gatorade just to rehydrate what is lost. It's, well, not too pretty. I love you shamus! I do!
Saturday, 10amish: Is when you arrive at Chez Paul & Dex. It is also when the first round of the Jocelyn, Paul & Dex holiday tradition of mimosas served in huge pint glasses is served.
Holiday presents are exchanged. I get a bottle of Godiva Chocolate Liquor, which is as good a present as you can get. I text the following to Shimmy:
"Paul and Dex just gave me Godiva chocolate liquor, so we'll be drinking high end chocolate orange martinis at Bring the Naughty, Leave the Nice!"
To which Shimmy texts: "I love Paul and Dex."
Don't we all, don't we all.
We meet up with Dale for brunch at some mildly pretentious Castro brunch place, where we feel that the correct follow-up to mimosas is a bottle of wine.
Then we go back to Chez Paul & Dex where there is another round of mimosas and many, many hours of video game. And anime. Video games and anime. The afternoon pretty much looks like this from where I'm sitting.
And then we pass out. It's perfect.
Dinner is in the mall -- yes, the mall -- with lovely AshleighE. Here's a picture, taken specifically because we were in the Muni station and I said, "Hmmm. Soft lighting in here. This would be a very flattering place to take a picture of us.
One would think that that day was full enough, and involved enough drinking, but then Paul and I head out to Trad'r Sams to have cocktails with Melis and Howie. By cocktails, we mean a Black Magic, which pretty much puts us on our asses. But Melis and Howie look amazing. Here's my favorite quote from Melis, who is clearly the most awesome mother in the world (and I mean that seriously - because she knows who she is and doesn't let the fact that she has kids change her core, even if it has to change her outward behavior sometimes).
Melis
You know, what we learned early was that, sure, you could get a baby sitter to stay until 4:00am and you could stay out, but no matter what you did, those kids were going to be up at 6:30am yelling, "Milk! Milk!" And the smell, too!
You know, what we learned early was that, sure, you could get a baby sitter to stay until 4:00am and you could stay out, but no matter what you did, those kids were going to be up at 6:30am yelling, "Milk! Milk!" And the smell, too!
11:00pm: Is when you arrive back at Chez Paul and Dex and cram in four hours of sleep before calling a cab to leave for the airport again at 4:30am.
It was a perfect, perfect, perfect Thanksgiving. I love San Francisco. I love my friends. I'm thankful for at least two years where I could spend Thanksgiving there with them. I'm thankful, also, for mimosas.
Applesauce had a good time, too. And then he passed out drunk.
Labels: drinking stories, holidays, san francisco, shamus
posted by pregamejocelyn at
11:03 AM
permalink baby
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home