Sunday, November 26, 2006

Giving thanks and wedgies

It’s that time of year again for cranberry sauce, unbridled gluttony and finally getting a chance to use that awl on your Swiss Army Knife for poking new holes in your belt. Oh, and for high school reunions. If you’re a geezer like me, that last one might apply to you. I’m still in denial about the whole thing. “I can’t believe I’m old enough to be having a ten-year high school reunion this weekend,” I said to myself this morning as I poured cream and Geritol into my Metamucil.

People plan their high school reunions for this time of year because all the scattered ex-high schoolers migrate home for Thanksgiving, much like geese, which is why geese are so much more deserving than turkeys to be the mascot for this holiday. I think it’s time we gave the turkeys a break and started chowing down on some good ol’ down home American Canadian geese.

I came up with this idea earlier today on my out to my car from work, as I carefully navigated through the minefield of sundry goose-related debris. If you haven’t noticed, the geese are taking over. They already have our golf courses, parks and Wawa signs. Now they want our parking lots. Who do they think they are, sea gulls?

A few years back, my wife Kara and I lived in an apartment complex that featured a rather large and quite algified pond, a verdant lagoon that stirred romance in the heart of every mosquito and was rivaled in beauty only by the Love Canal. Every morning around three o’clock, the resident geese would begin their enthusiastic and cacophonous honking; they were either fighting or making down-covered romance, but either way they kept us up all night. On beautiful, breezy Spring nights our closed windows would rattle in their frames.

“Make them stop,” my wife Kara would say, pulling her pillow over her head.

“Please stop it, geese,” I’d mutter, making a mental note to pick up a pellet gun on the way to work in the morning.

Not that I’d actually shoot a goose from an apartment window, but I’m pretty sure I’d have no problem putting goose meat right at the top of my personal food pyramid. Or at the bottom. I don’t understand the food pyramid anymore since they turned it into a rainbow and put a little stick person walking up the stairs on the side of it. It looks like a cross between a Skittles commercial and an M.C. Escher painting now.

I feel bad about eating most animals; it’s not their fault they’re so delicious. But I could go on an all-goose diet with no qualms at all. Goose flakes for breakfast. Peanut butter and goose sandwiches for lunch. And snacking on some Goose Combos would really honk one’s hunger away.

Regardless, there’s no time to convince the rest of my family about the merits of eating goose for Thanksgiving. Mom starts cooking three days before big gatherings like this, though I also do my fair share by carrying the dirty dishes ten feet from the dining room table to the kitchen, where Dad washes them. It’s quite the equitable system we’ve worked out.

And I only have a few more days to fret before my ten-year reunion. I hope everyone who didn’t give me a wedgie in high school is doing well.

“Hey, how’s my bald spot looking back there?” I asked Kara today. I haven’t held up a mirror to look at the back of my head since I was about twelve. I don’t want to know what’s going on back there. I’ll just assume that the back of my head still looks as lush and hirsute as Pierce Brosnan’s chest.

“Babe, it looks fine. You don’t have a bald spot,” she said. She always knows how to make me feel better.

Then she said, “But don’t get your hopes up for your twenty-year reunion.”

You can fight Mike Todd for the last slice of pecan pie online at mikectodd@gmail.com.

5 comments:

  1. 10 years?????????? good grief I have my 20 year in 3 years. uggghhhh We always do ours in August though. We have a big lake here and everyone likes to spend the reunion out at the lake.

    I could handle all the goose honking, but the goose doo doo and the biting would finally make me start shooting at them. hehehehe

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  2. We have the same problem with an infestation of Egyptian Geese here in Cape Town. We were so excited to see the first chicks hatching on our golf course 10 years ago. Now we prey for euthanisation of geese to be legalised...

    Great recipe for Egyptian Goose.
    Take 1 x de-feathered goose. place in pot with stock, carrots, celery, potatoe, a can of tomato, 2 x onions, some cabbage and plenty of seasoning. Place a brick on top of the goose to hold it under the the stock. Cook over low heat for 8 hours.
    When cooked, remove the goose, and eat the brick... :)

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  3. Ah yes, the wonders of fatty goose liver and high school reunions. I'm glad I can finally count myself among those lucky enough to have acutally HAD a high school reunion. Or rather lived through one.

    So who wants to have a Crimmus party chez moi? Shall I invite the entirety of Senor Todd's blogospherical reality?

    BTW, whaddup wit dat dere "winner" badge you done got??? Congrats, pal.

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  4. Burf -- A re-yoon at the lake sounds like a good time. If you shoot any geese, send me some jerky?

    tberry -- Sounds better than what I had for dinner! Never heard of Egyptian geese before. Does their poop make little pyramids?

    Devo -- We all survived, man! That one was hot wife you had there. Fire up that Christmas party action, man. It took me two days to figure out the chez moi meant your house. I get it now. Sounds like tres fun. And I'm not just a plain old bastard like I was ten years ago. I'm an award-winning bastard now. I'd have lots more loser badges to put up, but they usually don't give you those.

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  5. Ten, schmen... I've got the big 2-5 coming up next June. How much does THAT suck????

    And I'm with you on the goose thing... they're taking over the world!

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