Energy Vent

The bowling center was hopping when we arrived at 2:15 this afternoon. Upon reflection, though, we decided that we shouldn't have been surprised. It was, after all, a cold and rainy Sunday on Thanksgiving weekend, and most of the kids all around us were bowling like maniacs, wildly flinging their balls down the lanes. 

"Who's the kid?" one guy a couple lanes over shouted as he waved his arms. "It's me! I'm the kid!"

"It's a turkey for Thanksgiving!" another shrieked as his ball careened off the bumpers for an impressive third strike in a row.

And in the next lane over, a little girl named Lucy bowled three games against herself, precisely angling the ramp between each roll of her six-pound ball. She never achieved a score above 58, but she probably walked 2000 steps in the process.

I'm sure their parents were happy they were out of the house.

The Obvious

As nice as it is to be home? I sure would have enjoyed a few more days at the beach with my family.

Fending

Going to the beach for Thanksgiving is wonderful, but the slightest of downsides might be that there is only one day to eat leftovers before packing up to return home on Saturday. Historically, we have given it a valiant go, even consuming enough turkey and fixin's during the day to order pizza or go out for dinner on Friday night. 

But with the enormous turkey and all the other fabulous meals we've eaten this week, it made the most sense to stay in and eat leftovers for dinner. Even so, the foodies in us are tempted to do more than simply reheat. For example, this afternoon I made a pizza with a sourdough crust made from leftover cheese grits, topped with the rest of the ham we had for sandwiches, and strewn with roasted butternut squash, rosemary, and sage. 

Later, when I was reading an article called 53 Ways to Use Your Thanksgiving Leftovers, I proposed a competition where everyone prepares a new dish using only our leftovers and the limited vacation pantry we have cobbled together. "I'll be the judge," I graciously volunteered. 

And man! Did our group step up! We had turkey potato hash, homemade gnocchi with puttanesca, handmade wontons with butternut squash filling and chili oil, turkey cabbage salad with peanut dressing, spinach salad with black rice and warm bacon dressing, along with some good old-fashioned pepperoni pizza to round out the meal. 

As we planned and prepared our meal, I could tell that judging was more than a one-person job, so Treat and I put our teacher skills to use and created a Google form. After a ranked-choice voting ballot, the dumplings, a fusion of Julie and Victor's family recipes, won the evening decisively.

Now that's what I call leftovers!

Topsail Island, NC

I always like Thanksgiving
best--
you can eat leftover tart tatin
for breakfast
and drink coffee
and watch the parade
and the dog show
and walk on the beach
and solve puzzles
and quizzes
and ride bikes
and eat
turkey
and stuffing
and potatoes
and turnips
and gravy
sitting shoulder to shoulder
around a long table
with eleven chairs
filled with your family
and have pies
and pudding
for dessert
even though you're full
and go to bed
grateful
for the stars on the beach
and everything else.

Process of Elimination

"Wanna do the Slate history quiz with me?" I asked Treat, knowing his knowledge would boost my usual result on the six-question game.

We both knew the first one, that Japanese-Americans were interred in Manzanar, but I was lost on the second question about the late 19th-century split in the Republican party between the Stalwarts and the Half-breeds. Of course, the first and second Continental Congresses met in Philadelphia, but we weren't sure which of our four choices had been Secretary of State for a record eleven years. 

"Seward was in the Lincoln administration," I said, "could Andrew Johnson have kept him on?"

"Were any of them in the FDR administration?" Treat asked, "That would make sense with the number of years."

"Seward was Lincoln, Weinberger was Reagan, and Rusk was JFK," I said.

"Then it's probably Cordell Hull," Treat guessed, and of course, he was right.

In the end, we did miss one question about a former president of Mexico, but I didn't feel bad, and neither did Treat. "It wasn't really that hard," he shrugged, "except for that Secretary of State question."

"Yeah, but we really used our test-taking strategies, didn't we?" I laughed.

Feast, Not Famine

I checked the box for 16+ pounds when I ordered our locally-raised heritage black turkey for Thanksgiving down here on Topsail Island. Honestly, I briefly considered attaching a note requesting one closer to 18-20, but in the end, I decided to leave it up to the butcher, since I knew 16 pounds would be enough if we got one on the smaller side. And the turkey I picked up today in Wilmington seemed plenty large for our group of eleven. 

"How much does it weigh?" my brother and chief turkey cooker asked as I wrestled it into the fridge. 

"I don't know," I confessed. "Let me look at the receipt."

Um, we have a 24-pound turkey this year. At least there will plenty of leftovers!

❤️ the Beach

On a Monday in November, the beach here on Topsail Island is sparsely populated, and Heidi and I met only a few people as we walked the dog around noon. Most were fishing; they had their surfcasting rigs, cleaning tables, and roller coolers with knobby wheels all set up, but there were a few families and a couple of other walkers, too.

Earlier in the day, Bill and Emily had seen both an eel slipping in and out of its sandy hole as well as what seemed to be an injured loon, and so when I spotted four men on their hands and knees up the beach, I wondered if they were involved with either of those. As we drew nearer, we saw that the four were Latinx guys in workmen's clothing and that we were in front of a hotel that was either undergoing a major renovation or demolition. 

It made sense that they were enjoying the beach on their lunch break, but we were charmed to see that they were also drawing hearts in the sand with messages inside, and one was now on his knees constructing a heart-shaped fortress. 

"Nice!" I said, with a thumbs-up, as we walked by.

"Thank you!" he laughed. 

And when we passed again on our way home, they were gone, but their hearts remained.