Probably from growing up in a screwed up family with an alcoholic father, but I’ve always rather hated the social pressures of the Holidays. I usually leave those days up to other friends or housemates to plan. I can just sit at the table as the house elder and graciously welcome people to my Casa.
Years ago I realized that my 1927 Spanish Villa was a female spirit. So working from an intended pun I named her Casa Mia Lotta. Extra points to anyone that can explain the financial pun involved with the house name.
So, this time of the year I vacillate between jolly, annoyed, depressed, and annoyed. Oh, did I say annoyed twice? Yeah, annoyed.
My mate, Ethan makes it even more exciting because he has severe social anxiety. Remember him? You met him in my article Social Anxiety, and the closing of Fresh And Easy. He appreciates all the great comments and well wishing many of you wrote to him.
Well, the silly boy suggested that I write an article about our Thanksgiving season even knowing that he plays a starring role in it. I humbly oblige.
He’s just started his “real life” a couple of years ago. The one where he’s NOT in an emotionally, and physically abusive family. One where no one has gone to jail, instead of Mother, Father and Sister all having become acquainted with the place. Mother and Sister only once, for what that’s worth. Father, hmmm, well he seems to spend a lot of time there.
So it’s a big new world out here for Ethan. We had talked about making Thanksgiving here at the Casa, but he didn’t want to invite anyone else over. Last year he went to his Aunt’s house. This year a bit more awkward, as one of his two favorite Aunts passed away shortly after Thanksgiving last year. His other favorite Aunt invited him to celebrate with them again this year, and he accepted but on that day his cousin Trevor texted him saying that he couldn’t make it.
Do you know anyone with Social Anxiety? It’s an impressive condition. I mentioned before that if a housemate is in the kitchen he’ll walk around through the living and dining room to get to our den, so he doesn't have to interact with anyone.
He's getting better, slowly. Two days ago he actually had a short conversation with Brian, one of the housemates. He was rather proud of that but spent the next hour thinking it over in instant replay wondering if he said the right things, or responded correctly during the conversation.
People with Social Anxiety do that. Similar to Aspergers Syndrome, which he well might have, he doesn't pick up social cues very well. He plays conversations in his mind over and over again, practicing his responses, and almost always thinks a simple, healthy interaction is an aggressive move against him. There’s no middle ground for Ethan. Everything is either horribly wrong or manicly wonderful. I've never seen anyone angst over a simple text message response like Ethan does. Whole conversations can be held while he ponders over a response such as, "Cool, I'm glad you're doing okay".
"Was that too much?"
"Should I even mention that I'm glad he's doing okay?"
"Maybe just 'Cool' would be better?"
"What do you think Craig?"
"He seems to be doing better than last month, but if I mention that it might sound like I'm saying he 'wasn't' okay then."
Meanwhile, complete sonatas have been written, performed and forgotten, and he still hasn't hit the "send" button. I can see many of you out there think this is very strange behavior, but those of you who don't have that confused look on your faces must know someone like Ethan.
So he agonized over this year's Thanksgiving invite, especially since Trevor's wasn't going to be there. Trev was his “ace in the hole”. Ethan has very few people he can have full conversations with, Trevor is one of those. He’s worried because if he goes he’ll just sit somewhere out of the way and hope no one wants to talk to him. His Grandfather will notice, of course, and come sit with him, but that’s awkward too. He loves his Grandparents very much, but as family will do, he’ll ask what Ethan’s been up to lately.
The correct answer and an excellent answer is he's been seeing his therapist once a week for two weeks now and has gotten a years work deferral from social services so he can get assistance from the county while he works on his mental health. That’s a conversation he’d be embarrassed to have with Grandpa, so his angst continues.
Fifteen minutes after his correct departure time he finally decides to go and I'm proud of him for making the effort. He found a great parking place right across the street from their home and called me from the car quite nervous and apprehensive about crossing the street and entering that social world. A bit more encouragement from me and he’s ready to enter that social world.
Well, almost. You see as he closed the car door and started to cross the street he dropped the keys. No problem right? Except, his uncle and others are outside and might have seen him drop the keys. He’s already across the street and has to turn back to go get the keys. Awkward social moment again. “I just made a fool of myself by dropping the keys and they MUST have seen that!”
“(dialing..) Hi Craig? I dropped the keys, and a car ran over them, don’t worry they’re okay, but my uncle might have seen me, and now I’m embarrassed to get out of the car again.”
(***ten more minutes of awkward conversation deleted***)
”So I can’t just get out of the car AGAIN…”
And Ethan’s on his way home. No Thanksgiving dinner, Ethan’s favorite food group. Today is the Sunday after, and we have decided to make our own Thanksgiving meal, albeit a few days late. Ethan want’s a whole turkey, but I talk him down to a generous “turkey breast — bone in”.
I love cooking from scratch, but we want this to be easy comfort food, so we hit the deli section and get some premade sides of yams and a pumpkin pie. I’d love to make some homemade stuffing, but Ethan knows, loves, and is comfortable with the store bought traditional box stuffing, so a box of that goes in the basket, along with a package of instant chicken gravy. This cartload and some staples from home and we’re in the kitchen to start our late Thanksgiving.
It’s pretty obvious to any housemates or friends that might see the array of food choices that we’re cooking a Thanksgiving meal. Amy, a friend of Brian’s, passed through and asked:
“You making Thanksgiving?”
”Yup, we are.”
”For realz???”
”We are indeed.”
”Hunh...”
I’m in a great mood today, and against my normal instincts I ask Ethan to put on some Christmas music. What? It’s two days after Thanksgiving, Christmas music is appropriate, right? Ethan obliges with a devious selection of Justin Beiber Christmas songs. I love his humor and turn up the volume on the speakers. I’m pretty sure Amy thinks we’re crazy. The other housemates KNOW we are.
Okay, the turkey breast gets chopstick stabs all over it so I can squish garlic and butter into the breast. An assortment of other spices gets generously sown over the breast and into the oven it goes for a couple hours. The candied yams tossed into a pie plate get a large amount of mini marshmallows over them. Potatoes get diced up and into boiling water for traditional mashed potatoes and gravy. The stuffing gets reconstituted with water and a bit of bacon grease from breakfast instead of butter -- Bacon and bacon grease makes anything taste better.
bacon latticed turkey breast
Assorted timers get set so we can have a coordinated finish time and we’re off to the den to binge watch some “Gotham”. With the arrival of the first timer’s notification, I see that the turkey breast is starting to brown around the edges. We come up with the decadent idea of putting a lattice of bacon slices over the breast to keep it moist and tender. MORE bacon. More “ Netflix And Chill”.
Everything comes together nicely as we sit down to a dinner of beautifully moist turkey breast, candied yams with marshmallows, mashed potatoes with gravy, stuffing, and a sliced sourdough baguette rounded out with pumpkin pie and whipped cream. Ethan gave me a warm hug and heartfelt thanks for making Thanksgiving dinner with him. I ate too much but loved every minute of it. We both got terribly sleepy. I know, I know tryptophans. Ethan goes to bed early, and I decide to stay up a bit longer and write about our latest adventures here.
It’s good social therapy for Ethan, great fun for me, and we hope entertaining for you all to read. This done, it’s time for some inappropriate websites and then bed for me too. Did I really just type that? No more champagne for me, good night everyone.
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