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Jovial Journey to a Turkey Feed

October 31st, 2008

Oliver.jpg

What is a journey? It could be a voyage, an expedition, a trip, an experience or even life itself. A journey involves movement through time or space headed for a destination. In my life’s log book there have been a slew of them so when I got my hands on a new Dodge Journey crossover for the Thanksgiving Day weekend, a journey of sorts seemed as much duty as option.

I spent most of the weekend at home tinkering with time in my backyard and dreaming about the Thanksgiving Day feast my sister Susan and her husband Bruce Tuck had invited us to. Since they live 80 kilometres away in Chester, I figured the Journey’s journey would be a relatively short but spirited affair. Especially since Lisa and I would have our mothers, Edith and Ginevra, riding shotgun in the back seat.

Of course there was a degree of prerequisite running around on the eve of the big feed. I drove Edith to the grocery store and lugged two turnips into her house so she could prepare her version of my Aunt Janine’s Turnip Puff. Meanwhile Lisa raided the produce section at Pete’s Froutique for ingredients for one of her legendary salads. Nothing like a little ‘pot luck’ to ease the guilt associated with yet another turkey feed at Sue and Bruce’s place.

On the big day we picked up Edith and Ginevra and hit the road. It was not a quiet drive as Ginevra filled us in on her last journey, the annual pilgrimage to visit brothers and sisters in Italy. Edith had us in hysterics about preparing the coveted Turnip Puff.

“The smoke detector went off and scared the daylights out of me. It took me an hour to clean the pot.”

By the time we got to Chester we had heard about the time Edith saw a cloud formation that looked like God in Debert, knew what goodies were planned from the spoils of a recent blueberry picking journey and had worked up hearty appetite. The hour on the road with our mums had been a jovial affair, no question.

At Sue and Bruce’s, all was calm. The smell of basted turkey and the trimmings took hold of me like a couple of designer tranquilizers. Hey, with nothing to do but talk turkey, mull about and make sure Edith’s Turnip Puff got from the Journey to the table intact, I migrated to the sofa and grabbed a Hello Canada magazine. Ahhhh, the bliss of ‘the invited’.

But that’s when the squawking and shaking started, not from our mothers, but from Susan’s three parrots, Oliver, the African Grey, Sassy, the stunning red and blue Eclectus and Fagan, the Quaker, who was on the shake whenever I came near him.

The African Grey supposedly has the ability to out-gab any other parrot and with an 80-year lifespan Oliver has plenty of time to practice. Susan tells me he can count…’one, two, three, what comes after three’, knows when guests wear out their welcome…. ‘look at the time!’, and tells Bruce ‘see you tomorrow’ whenever he heads off to work.

I listen to the stories but am not convinced Oliver can really talk because I’ve never heard him say a word. Sue professes he is shy and that I make him nervous because I accidently bumped into his cage when he was a chick. Get over it, Oliver.

During dinner we chat and joke while the parrots stare us down from their perches. They really have plenty they could be doing since Susan’s business is designing, building and selling parrot toys on her website, www.oliversgarden.com. But no, they want to hang with the humans.

The feast eventually comes to an end. The parrots were the topics of conversation, like kid talk when those yuppie power couples finally have children of their own.

Lisa and I and our mothers eventually waddle back to the Dodge Journey. On the trip home there is plenty of parrot talk and even the odd joke about how they will outlive all of us. We agree Aunt Janine’s Turnip Puff was a big hit.

Pulling into the driveway at home, I laugh out loud convinced the next time we have dinner at my sister’s Birdland we should lobby for ham, roast beef, pizza or even navy bean soup.

Because picking away at a turkey under the keen eyes of Oliver, Sassy and Fagan is a little too close to the bird-bone for me!

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