The Day After Turkey Day...

The day after Turkey Day, also known as Canada’s Thanksgiving, is a memorable one.

The hustle, the banter, the oven disasters, humans and pets chowing down on the coma-inducing feast, all near-distant memories now.

Canada’s holiday comes ahead of the State’s, and although I know there is an historical reason, all that springs to my mind are two British ships racing towards the New World wrecking in some kind of flotilla NASCAR race, the northern front crawl swimmers making shore ahead of their southern dog-paddlers, so we were thankful, first.

Look, I’m a writer. I can write stuff like that.

Back to The Day After Turkey Day…

Your guests are gone. When you waved at the last car leaving the drive, you whispered, “Thank God.” The thankfulness of this holiday never ends.

You shuffle to the kitchen. You see disturbing stains and weird food morsels embedded into the carpet that even Servpro can’t shampoo like it never even happened.

Your mind is haunted by Vietnam-like flashbacks, one where you were so proud of yourself for cleaning out the junk drawer to impress your mother-in-law only to see her re-arrange your cutlery drawer instead.

You’re starved. There was food galore on Turkey Day but you don’t actually remember eating. You grab the closest leftover to gulp down with your coffee. It turns out to be the last dried-out slice of pumpkin pie. Breakfast, after all, is the most important meal of the day.

You empty the overloaded dishwasher and store your fine china, wistfully thinking when your parents bought it for your wedding it would be used for A List dinner guests instead of B List family.

Specks of crystal are still evident on the table cloth where your stalwart Uncle Lou smashed his wine glass over the political rants of his hippie-leaning nephew, fisticuffs barely avoided with the call of, “Pumpkin pie, anyone!”

Stuff like that happens. I kid you not.

My solution to world peace: pumpkin pie. I say to those United Nations ambassadors who lurk my online writings — I know you’re out there — try offering pumpkin pie in sensitive negotiations. You’ve tried the cocktail and canapé route, and it has historically sucked. Try pie.

Back-back to The Day After…

You’re tired but wound-up, and disturbed the house is so quiet. Your dog and cat finally crawl out of their hiding spots and you pet them. They bark, hiss and swat at you. They’ve had more than enough of Little Mikey’s sticky hand mauls for one joyous day.

You are thrilled your Aunt Shirley is doing the Christmas feast this year, so all you have to do is show up in your ugly sweater, chop veggies in her mod-con kitchen and slip more vodka into your mulled wine glass.

Smiling, laughing, talking… while hosed. You can do all that. Come that year-end joy, it’s not like it’ll be your broken crystal or your stained carpet.

Yes, The Day After…

You literally yearn to return to your workaday world where you get to talk with normal people, no family drama mine fields to manoeuvre.

At the water cooler, you ask, “How was your Thanksgiving, Marjorie?”
“Oh, great. And yours?”
“It was lovely, thanks. So wonderful to see the family.”
You and Marjorie take huge gulps of water to drown the shame.
Nothing brings out the pathological lying like the day after Turkey Day.

At lunch while eating your turkey salad sandwich, you and 20 million other Canadians Google an article, “10 Best Recipes for Leftover Turkey,” putting the ad revenue for that homemaker blog well into the stratosphere, the housewife scribe retiring to the Cayman Islands, never having to cook or serve turkey to her Uncle Lou or Aunt Shirley ever again, who, by chance, never receive her change of address. You are raging with jealousy. I can tell. I feel your pain.

Back to, oh, you know…

It crosses your mind you could pull out the Dyson and suck up the remnants of that bountiful day — an errant green pea hiding behind the Lazy Boy recliner, a battery-powered toy race car doing laps in the kitty litter, that centrepiece flower arrangement your hippie cousin watered with your holiday punch… but life is too short. That refuse will keep 'til tomorrow.

Today, it’s you, the peace and quiet, a cup of coffee and a Chatelaine magazine. You leaf to an article, “7 Ways to Impress Your Holiday Guests.” You tear it out, ball it up and use it for kindling for a crackling fire, as you roast the summer’s leftover marsh mallows, your heart strings playing for the American Thanksgiving yet to crash and burn.

Yes, there’s a lot to be thankful for the day after Turkey Day.