The Cost of Turkey Just Went Up

When Tim and I moved to DC it was a move "back" for me and it landed us within 30ish minutes of my folks (on a good day with no traffic, so, you know, never) and 10ish of my sister (on back roads, so that's fairly accurate.) With my sister and me located so close to one another, it got to the point where mom and dad now are the most likely to travel down our way for any family get-together.

I have long enjoyed cooking and look for excuses to indulge the whim to experiment with new recipies and fancy things. Holidays rapidly presented themselves as opportunities where, for once, I could take the menu out of a Gourmet magazine and put it together for the six of us and we would be able to make reasonable inroads on the food (generally all the dishes are designed for 10) without having to eat it for the next millenium. And so it was that every Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter, the clan would gather at our house and I would prepare strange and delectable delights and we would feast thereon.

At first, mom and my sister would chip in some money to offset the cost of the meals and this was greatly appreciated. Except that when it was time to go home, having now offset the cost, they felt (justifiably, I might add) entitled to a share in the leftovers. This would not be a problem if Tim and I weren't greedy. And so I began to suggest they could bring such and such if they wanted to chip in, cause that way Tim and I could feast like kings for a week after each meal with a guilt-free heart as we greedily hoarded the leftovers in our own fridge. Though there was minor grumbling, acclimation to the new plan has followed. And, just as gradually, there has been a marginal lessening in greediness and now on occasion, leftovers are sent home with a joyful heart.

After these, what I will dub FeastAPaLoozas, we would toddle down into the basement wherein movies would be watched and death and destruction would be wreaked upon the heads of the evil minions who dared to challenge the game-playing skill of Tim, daddy, and my brother-in-law (and very often my sister, who is every bit as good at wreaking death and destruction upon the heads of evil minons as any boy.) And with the six of us there was plenty of room. And it was good.

You may recall that Tim's family now lives within 20ish minutes of us. And, like my mom and sister, Tim's mom does not care to cook. (Nor does Tim's dad or sister, by the by.) And so it is that this year our holiday FeastAPaLoozas are expanding from six to nine. (Can one get heartburn before one eats?)

I was considering this fact as I began making my mental list of what preparations must be made for Thanksgiving as it fast approaches. And as I surveyed our dining room, I figured a way to crowd three more people around the table. Then I looked at the basement and cringed. There is not enough room for additional people resting down there. Nor, in all honestly, will Tim's family be interested in the usual melee of activity that follows our holiday meals. Thus I stood in the kitchen and surveyed our den. Our den that has exactly three chairs. (Chairs, mind you, no sofa to be found. The sofa is down in the theater.) It's not exactly an area set up for casual conversation or the gathering of, well honestly, anyone other than Tim and myself. The music room (formerly the living room) is not any better as it holds exactly one grand piano. (Well, someone can sit on the bench in a pinch.)

There seems to be nothing for it - a new sofa must be purchased and installed in the den. Before Thanksgiving.

So, instead of the usual $200, I'm telling Tim to budget another 0 onto the number this year so there's a place to sit afterward.

Maybe we should charge admission.