On Flying Solo on Thanksgiving

I am stuffed past the food fill line this evening.  My Thanksgiving feast was more than bountiful for the one person it fed and there will be leftovers into next week, to be sure.

Yes, I said one person.  It’s been just me since 1998.  That was the year my mom passed away.  The first two Thanksgivings, I chose to be alone with my grief and memories of Thanksgivings past.  After that, I didn’t have enough money to make the trip to be with any family member until 2009, and after declining invitations for the first two years, no one was invited me after that because they thought I wanted to be alone on the holidays.  Volunteering for various activities on the day didn’t work out well, either, and I’ve been a solo act on the day for the past 17 years.

Don’t feel sorry for me.  It did ultimately become a choice.  I like the whole planning and cooking thing of the day, but my home isn’t exactly company friendly.  I’m not insisting cooking alone, but I have yet to find a friend who’ll either let me have a portion of their kitchen or at least let me do more than bring a side-dish, a dessert or a bottle of wine.  Never ask me to bring wine, by the way – I don’t drink and therefore know little of what’s good and what goes with what.

So, it was just me at the table on this fourth Thursday of November again.  For the very first time, I roasted turkey breast on the grill.  I read up on how to cook it by the indirect heat method and I had moist, smoky and flavorful turkey, carcinogenic aspects of such a method aside.  For the first time, I made dressing in the slow cooker, with enough vegetables in it to be at a 1:1 ratio with the bread.  Mighty good stuff it was, too.  The cranberry sauce was store bought as usual.  I like the smooth jellied sauce that Ocean Spray® does so well.  It’s comfort condiment – sue me.  Finally, the pumpkin pie was also store-bought, but it’s the first time ever.  Last minute decision.  Last time, too.  Aside from the fact that store-bought never has enough spice for my tastes, I’ve rediscovered how much I don’t like pie crust.  I’ve been making the pumpkin filling as a standalone item for years and never missed the crust.  Back to my dessert tradition next year.

Before I sat down, I engaged in another annual tradition – I raised my glass in toast.  I toasted family who had passed away and family still here but far away.  I toasted friends, some also departed, some old and some new.  I then gave thanks for what I have, as bountiful or meager as it may be, and for the fact that I am still here and able to make a contribution to this world, as meager as I might perceive it to be.

I believe that I will once more play planner, chef and hostess to more than myself on this and other days.  For now, though, I will continue as a solo act and try to keep my skills sharp.  I know I’m not the only one eating alone by choice, but I also know that there are many who are alone on this day or far away from home and don’t really chose to be.  These are the ones to open hearts to.  We all forget that sometimes – even me.

Veterans' Day

I detest war.  This human race has gone to war over the silliest of things at times in its history and the devastation that's left in war's wake, both in the short and the long term, can regularly make us wonder what we were thinking.

But, I have not and will never detest the soldiers who fight those wars.  They served our country when it called for them to be there.  Sometimes stationed stateside, sometimes stationed elsewhere.  Sometimes in combat, sometimes in waiting, sometimes in support of those further up the line.  But, ultimately, they served US.  They were there for those left behind waiting for their return and for our way of life, as imperfect as it may be or seem.

You can wonder why we got involved in the world wars and in the world's wars after those.  You can question and protest our involvement in any and all conflicts in which our country has become involved.  But, never EVER question or protest the ones sent to war.  Our presently serving military and our veterans have shown loyalty, honor and a sense of duty that should never be denied, downplayed, or insulted.  With or without medals, with or without visible or silent scars, they are all heroes.

To W. Dale Swartzmiller, my grandfather who served in the U.S. Navy during World War I,
To James Swartzmiller, my father who served in the U.S. Army during World War II,
To Shawn Swartzmiller, my brother who served in the U.S. Army during the Vietnam War,
To Ethan Swartzmiller, my nephew who served in the U.S. Marines during the ongoing conflicts in the Middle East,

and to all veterans of all the military branches of all wars and conflicts, a huge thank you from little ole me.

Ah-Choo, Sniffle-Snuffle

Every year about this time, I get a cold.  It’s almost like a rite of passage that must be endured in order for the immune system to handle the winter season at its best.  Once it’s over, I’m good until next year about this time.  Unfortunately, getting there is not half the fun. 

It’s starts as a sore throat which makes me sound kind of gravelly and sexy for about a day before I start making those little coughing and sniffling sounds that make anyone on the other end of a phone glad they’re not in the same room with me and those who share my space wish they were anyplace else.  Along with a head that feels like its painfully overfilled with wadded cotton, there's also lots of sneezing from a stuffy, runny nose – who would have thought that stuffy and runny could so happily coexist?  It’s the only time of the year I have to buy Kleenex in those pretty decorator boxes that don’t make me feel any better to look at or use them.  Eventually, the sneezing and clearing of throat turn to full-out coughing, and I can bark with the best of the seals – go ahead, throw me a fish.

I may or may not have body aches and a low-grade fever, although if I do, guaranteed I’m cranky, which turns to a cranky and whiny combo as the cold progresses.  No, I’m not good at being sick.  My infirmed persona is likely enough to make any prospective love of my life think twice before getting involved with me.  Okay, that’s not the only reason, but seriously, one practically needs the patience of Job for about the middle 48 hours of the total 120-150 hours that the cold runs its course.  Best bet is just to leave me alone with lots of fluids, ibuprofen, and whatever other cold symptom remedies I might need demand. 

It mercifully starts to subside around Day 4 and I’m back to being my normal sounding sweet self in no time.  I’ll even be nice and not tease those around me who are now getting sick, possibly the result of contact with me during the contagious phase which started even before the first throat tickle.

There are a number of viruses which cause the illness we call the common cold, but for some reason once I’ve had one, I seem to be stay healthy and immune from all of them for the rest of the cold and flu season.  Yes, I do get the flu shot now, but that doesn’t protect against every sniffling, sneezing, coughing, sore throat making microorganism out there.  I wash my hands, use hand sanitizer, cough and sneeze into my sleeve as much as I can, and can only hope that all those around me will do the same. 

In the meantime, I can only apologize to those who must be around me while I’m working on my one and only cold this season.  I’ll try to be good and not get on your last nerve, but remember – you’ve been warned.