As I
admitted a few days ago, Thanksgiving Day was celebrated at my home with a
small, mini-gathering of chunks of the family. In attendance were my mother,
older brother Sarge and my sister-in-law-in-law Choggun-Nunim, my older
daughter Shellie, and an overweight Maine coon cat masquerading in size and shape and
warmth as a large furry turkey someone must have left under the dining-room
table.
As I write
this – midevening – sister Mew and her husband Arnold, plus kids Casper
and JT, are still expected here to help clear out the leftovers… once football's done being played everywhere it's
being played.
Mother and I
joined farces – er, forces – and did decide to augment the roast beast with a Mae-West sized turkey breast; Sarge and
Choggun-Nunim brought kimchee and kimbob (but no chopsticks!), and Shellie some nice crescent
rolls and a fantastic (home-made… obviously did not learn
from me) cherry cheesecake. No irony there – even though, remember, the gal's
shed about twenty pounds thus far, and as always looks beautiful (thanks again
to her mom).
Brother Doc
– recovering from surgery – and family are out near the Chesapeake Bay, and no
doubt recovering from their budgie-approved tryptophan repast. And Alicia and Levi and
baybay-Dannay Lee in Boston may well have been eating treyf… so, nu?
Another
can't-show is lovely thespian Daughter-Two, Portia: as always, her traditional,
Bavarian, and likewise-lovely, mom keeps her little lambs in the corral, come
major holidays.
So I gave
our young'n a call. After three-odd (some very odd) years of Spanish,
she's capstoning her high-school swath with elementary German, and doing quite
well. A tutor at home helps… but is hardly necessary. And it turns out she
did inherit a thing or two from her dad, though: a penchant for language and
puns, the poor lass. As example, once – arrived at entirely on her own – she
asked me, "What does a German call a bunch of fruit that's gotten in his
way?"
Hah!
"Fruit" in German is "Obst"; so I answered: "An Obst-acle?"
Bingo.
Example two:
she asked: "Then what do you call a German who sells beetles?" Portia
meant insects, or possibly VW's, but I was thinking John, Paul, George, Stu,
Pete, and Ringo. That one stumped me, but I should at least have
guessed, "Ein Musik-car?" – playing off "Musiker", meaning "musician".
Nein.
"Ein Verkäfer!" – and for you non-students of German, this is quite
funny, since a "Verkäufer" is a "salesman", but
"Käfer" means "beetle"! That
got a good laugh from me! (Later, I ran these past Daughter One, Shellie, who's
better in German than her sister… and has no tolerance whatsoever for puns.
They fell flat – and I could have punned off that one in really bad taste,
since "fall flat" in German is
"durchfallen"… a word that also applies to, uh, intestinal distress. Never mind.)
Sensing the
good daughter was on a roll, I decided to butter her up – in a manner of
speaking, that is. So I delegated to her the annual Thanksgiving-stinker
bilingual pun on her mom (Mutti), who amazingly steps right into it every year;
I love this about her – so does our little Fräulein. We take full advantage of
it.
Very little
coaching at all, and then Daughter sets the phone down a moment and asks:
"Mom – are we having duck again this year?" (Conversation is in
English; for reference, the German word for "duck" is "Ente".)
"For
Thanksgiving? No, we're having turkey." (Mutti's tone is
"well, of course it's turkey – it's turkey every year". And
"Thanksgiving" in German, by the way, is "Erntedankfest"… so you can see where Miss
Innocent-Face is about to lead her poor mom.)
Portia's
eyes blink for a moment; (faked) bafflement. "Well… isn't it Ente-Dankfest?"
Stunned
pause. Mutti's face takes on a look of utter disgust – say, as though she'd
just been slapped by a large, wet fish. And she turns away.
Portia's laughing really hard, and Mutti knows where that one came from.
No, I didn't see this – but I've gotten that look from her Mutti so many
times over the past nearly-twenty years… early on, my name became a curse-word
around the house. Heh-heh…
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