Or Myrtle Street In Downtown Boise Is One-Way And You Would Do Well To Remember It.
When a woman is nine months pregnant she holds a lot of sway. Basically, you do whatever she wants. So when Todd’s very pregnant sister informed us we were coming for Thanksgiving in Boise, due date be damned, we had little choice but to acquiesce. It was no hardship on our part. We love car trips and were more than happy to make the trip.
The plan then, since neither of us were eager to make a pregnant woman cook a full Thanksgiving meal for us was that Todd would make the turkey, she would make the potatoes and everything else would work itself out. In retrospect, I’m not sure what that was supposed to mean. I would soon find out.
So this morning when I woke up and checked Facebook and was surprised, if a little dismayed, to see my sister-in-law talking about her contractions and how they were 10 minutes apart. Ooooookay.
We head over to the house and drop Todd off. Things seem to be fine so I head to Whole Foods on the other side of town to get the rest of his ingredients and hopefully stave off the oncoming sitcom Thanksgiving. I don’t mind this in the slightest as pending labor seems like something I’d rather avoid and grocery shopping is a fine enough task. By the time I enter the store, texts are flying fast and furious because, unsurprisingly, the turkey is still frozen solid. Also, there really isn’t a plan for anything else to eat beyond turkey and potatoes.
I continue wandering around the unfamiliar, overpriced store with a slightly dazed look on my face, still a little shell-shocked by how quickly the day is unraveling. I call my mom for a stuffing recipe and to hyperventilate a little before cornering an unwitting salesperson to help me mastermind my shopping list. Whole Foods is a fabulous store with wonderful people. They have many, many things that are very near what you want, but absolutely not what you need. It’s a complete mindfuck.
In addition now to my list, I’m scoping out turkey options. Because Whole Foods is fabulous they have a large selection of beautiful, unfrozen turkeys. For 100 bucks a pop. Ha! Good one, Whole Foods. Let me just grab my satchel full of leprechaun gold and plop down the money for one of those. A fool’s errand, I tell you. I decided to try my luck over at WinCo Foods.
I bundled my 50 dollar bag of groceries into my car and peeled out of the parking lot, anxious to proceed through the rest of this interminable day. I’d passed WinCo earlier, so I knew I just had to backtrack a block. What I didn’t realize is that the street I’d just pulled onto was 8 lanes of one way traffic. On which I was going the wrong way. Oops.
No big deal. I’ll just throw an ENORMOUS U-TURN in the middle of all this. Great. I don’t mean to say that it’s not my intention to die in a fiery crash taking many people with me, it just wasn’t my intention to die that way TODAY.
Whatever. After that embarrassing endeavor I finally made it to WinCo to seek out the rest of my list. WinCo is the backwoods, redneck, cash only cousin, to Whole Foods. They seem completely different, but they’re exactly the same. WinCo too has many, many things similar to want you want and absolutely nothing you need. Unless you need rashers of bacon. Those they have multitudes of. Also, they appear to have a lot of meth heads. If that’s your thing.
I think despair really set in as I was wandering around what appeared to be the cavernous headquarters of Doomsday Preppers. I don’t frequent club stores, so I was unprepared for the pallets upon pallets of green beans, located conveniently next to a rough gross of Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup. I trudged through the store, searching aimlessly for pumpkin pie filling, finally asking a harried employee who shouted the answer at me before I was even halfway through the question. I would bitch about his attitude but I was the awful woman asking about pumpkin pie filling from a man forced to work on Thanksgiving Day and answer stupid questions about pumpkin pie filling.
On the bright side, a store overstuffed as this WinCo was had reasonably priced turkeys as far as the eye could see. On the down side, I lack sufficient vocabulary to describe just how frozen solid they were. Something about the Ice Age, maybe? Basically, if you hit someone with one of these turkeys you would be charged with assault with a deadly weapon. As we (evidently) already had a turkey at this level of frozen just waiting for us at the house, I neglected to pick up another.
Eventually I gave up and left with my elaborate selection of canned goods. Back to Whole Foods, driving the correct way down the one-way street and leaving with an unfrozen, overpriced turkey and my tail between my legs, but not before an embarrassing incident involving a non-functioning debit card and forking over every last bit of cash I had.
I trekked back across town and arrived at the house two hours after I’d left it previously. At this point, neither Todd and I had eaten and in the face of 6 hours of cooking, neither felt up to throwing together lunch. So back out I went, in search of sanity and sandwiches. What I found was a gas station (Good! I needed gas!) with a car wash (Awesome! I needed to wash the car!) and a McDonald’s (Okay! I needed food!). So I purchased gas, got the car washed and… McDonald’s was closed. Because you know what’s open on Thanksgiving Day?
Nothing. Nothing is open on Thanksgiving Day.
Oh. Except grocery stores. Now there was a different WinCo near the house, but there’s no use going there, because I don’t think they have premade food and, of course, I’m still out of cash from earlier. So I drive the other way across town to an Albertson’s where I find basic sustenance and, thankfully, Coke. Sadly, just the soda, as at this point I could have used any and all alternatives.
Back to the house. Eat. Todd’s brother arrives with his two dogs just in time for us to start prepping the turkey.
Thankfully, we were able to avoid the inevitable. Prepping the rest of the food was maddening. Being in an unfamiliar kitchen and forced to ask a contracting sister-in-law where things were, all the while being terrified that after cleaning up the massive amounts of post-cooking dishes, I’d also need to clean her broken water off the floor. Todd and I would snip at each other (AS IS OUR WONT) and she (being 23, pregnant with her second child, and married for two-ish years) would talk about how she and her husband never talk to each other that way. Ah, youth.
As we entered the final stretch, her contractions started worsening, we started cooking faster, everyone got burned and everyone got fed.
My feet hurt. By morning we may have a new niece. I’ve seen all the grocery stores in the greater Boise area. And I didn’t even get any pie.