The rain was appropriate, if not welcome. Mom picked me up at the station with a soaked cup of diner coffee in her ready. The caffeine gave me a second wind as we drove to a Mexican joint in Pinehill for dinner run by authentic Mexicans. The mole was sweeter than I like, but the chicken was cooked right and spiced good. Not shredded and sitting in it's own mess like them lazier joints. Noticed that the waiter never bused our plates. From appetizers to desert, the table was a maze of dishware. I looked around me and the empty tables furnished dirty dishes, too. Maybe it was a Mexican revolt? Since most of his homies were probably bussing other restaurant plates, they'd take their own damn time about doing it here? Cool. I threw him an extra buck in the tip. Let him I know I had his back and he could buy another bullet in this revolution.
Met Taz [short for Tazmanian Devil], my mama's new kitty cat. A beautiful terror. Mom's forearm bore many a scratch and gash. Reminded me of my own arm in high school, only those cuts were made with malt liquor glass and switchblade steel. We rented Tony Scott & Denzel Washington's MAN ON FIRE. Dark and cruel. Kinda good until it went all revenge-like, but I thought it was better than first imagined it could be.
Thanksgiving day employed me snipping the ends off of string beans, peeling potatoes for mash, baking apple pie [to compliment mom's pumpkin pie], cooking sausage for stuffing [not necessary BUT fie on nuts & raisins!], and preparing the turkey for the oven. Mom had already made cranberry sauce, a Thanksgiving perennial I have no use for, and we got a pan ready for gravy.
While the turkey roasted, I showed Inverna & Ali the 96pp of layouts I did for THE QUITTER, and a couple of internet trailers for THE INCREDIBLES, explaining how the movie had undone me. They scoffed at my suffering but were intrigued by it, nonetheless. Back at mom's we couldn't bother with the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade [although, I caught a glimpse of the SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS balloon and had a nostalgic hankering for the traditional 'blowing up of the balloons' the night before at the Museum of Natural History], so we watched the first episode of THE MARY TYLER MOORE SHOW with Cindy and Jeff, instead. Perhaps the best American sitcom, bar none. Mom was going through '24' withdrawal and so, like a month's dose of Methadone, I hooked her up with MTM/Season One. She was elated.
It started to snow and my stomach was full by the first bite [picking while cooking will do that to you] yet, I soldiered on like the fine folks who were invited to share this holiday meal. Stuffed tummies and drowsy heads led to a few games of Cranium, as we made bloated fools of ourselves. Cranium led to the Sienfeld Special, coffee and desert. Only, the satellite emitted intermittent signals -- making a mockery of digital television. I don't watch much TV, but when I do, I'm a slave. The shitty reception proved quite frustrating. So we took back the night and I busted out a dvd of the 1974 disaster movie, EARTHQUAKE. A terribly written and acted movie brought back so many first memories of Hollywood terror. Women falling down the sides of office buildings. Dancing electrical wires. A man dangling from a metal beam. A woman's face covered in shattered glass. Such horror when I was young. Charlton Heston plays a skeevy protagonist having an affair with Genevieve Bujold in the midst of leaving his suicidal wife Ava Gardner, while George Kennedy is a man's man as the anti-hero cop who saves a very young Victoria Principal from the grips of an army reserve psycho. Richard Roundtree plays a black Evel Kneivel while Walter Matthau makes a bizarre cameo as a drunk pimp. Simply dreadful. I couldn't take my eyes off of it.