The "Used" Thanksgiving Dinner

I am finally back on the blogging track, following the constant badgering from friends and family. By constant, I mean my mom begging me to write one because she was sick of seeing my dad’s 8-year-old face when she checked for updates. By constant, I mean the one email from my friend Jordan demanding a quote “Dayna Blog.” Oh! The pressure.

A few months ago I promised another Marty LeMasters blog. I’m a woman true to my word. As it’s Thanksgiving week, I felt that the following story was appropriate for sharing.

Note: As this story happened approximately 30 years ago, the accuracy of the story may be questionable. Please direct any discrepancies to Nick LeMasters.

I think it’s pretty obvious that my family likes a shindig. We like an excuse to gather, eat, and be merry. Well, that was the same when my parents were first married. The following story is shared annually and has been a story I have cherished since I was a young girl.

One Thanksgiving many years ago, the LeMasters siblings and those with spouses, gathered at 3051 Bruin Court for yet another Thanksgiving meal. Grandma Joan always set a beautiful table and the house smelled amazing. The usual suspects were assembled: The LeMasters Clan (Marty, Joan, Jackie, Kevin, Jerry, Jeannie, Nick, Robyn, Tom, and Molly), Nana, Jean, and Auntie Irene.

As was typical on most holidays, Marty announced to everyone that he needed to take a late-afternoon “nap.” This was code for “I have to sleep off the few pops I’ve enjoyed this afternoon.” Marty retreated to the bedroom.

At just about the time dinner was to be served, Marty arose from his slumber. Soon there after, the guests took their seats around the dinner table to begin their Thanksgiving feast.

Nick recalls this meal being particularly good…but maybe he was just hungry. The meal proceeded in the usual fashion: lively conversation, loud voices, and good food. As the legend goes, Uncle Tom wanted seconds of that delicious bird. Grandma Joan directed Uncle Tom to the kitchen, where he would have to carve more.

At that moment, Marty now over his post nap grogginess, decided he needed to weigh-in on the matter. As Nick recalls, Tommy was directed not toward the succulent bird in the kitchen, but to Jerry’s plate. A quick look revealed ample turkey, stuffing, and gravy remaining from the young man whose eyes were bigger than his stomach. It was not a pretty picture. A brief argument ensued between Tommy and Marty (not an uncommon occurrence).

The conversation may have sounded like this:
Tommy: Are you kidding me? Have you seen his plate?
Marty: Don’t let good food go to waste! We need the rest of the turkey for sandwiches.

Tom abruptly left the table, brief laughter ensued, and fresh turkey appeared on his plate.

Note: We believe Marty’s reaction may be attributed to Post Traumatic Stress (PTS) experienced while growing up in depression era New York City.

Tune in next time on “Infinite Twaddle” where Nick will recount the time he rejected Marty’s offer of red wine.

Money Doesn't Grow On Trees, Nick LeMasters

After my previous blog entry about fake sheriffs, my dad called up his mom to see if she had read my latest LeMasters’ tell all. She had in-fact read the story and was interested to know if he had regaled us with another famous story. I don’t know where I’ve been hiding, but I haven’t heard this one. However, I know it’s been told because my mom looked at me as he was telling it and mouthed, “He tells this all the time.”

As the story goes, Nick LeMasters was always on the hunt for money growing up. Grandma Joan used to say: “Nicky’s always got a few bucks in his pocket.” He valued money. He valued money from a young age. And so the following story was found about five-year-old Nick LeMasters in The Vallejo Times Herald.

IT’S RICH (August 6, 1963 - The Vallejo Times Herald)

CROP FAILURE – For every unsophisticated person there seems to be an opportunist ready to capitalize on his victim’s naiveté.

For instance, there’s the case of five-year-old Napa youngster who recently lost his first tooth. The next morning when he woke up, he found three shiny dimes the “good fairies” had deposited under his pillow during the night.

But instead of investing his newfound wealth in something substantial like popsicles or bubblegum, the youngster insisted on planting the coins in his backyard and raise “money trees.”

A few days later when he went to check his newly planted “crop,” the boy discovered to his dismay that his three silver seeds stamped with “E Pluribus Unum” had disappeared.

No direct accusations have been made, but the crestfallen youngster who had dreams of becoming wealthy by raising “money trees” recalls that a playmate – not quite as visionary as his friend – was with him when he “planted” his ten-cent piece “seeds.”

The Times said “no direct accusations have been made,” but upon deep reflection, we have a few new accusations. I asked Nick to reflect on that day so long ago. That day that should have been full of joy but was full of disappointment. This is how our conversation unfolded:

Me: Who was this kid with you?
Dad: My friend Don DeSoto.
Me: Well he’s a dirty rotten thief.
Dad: So it would seem. The article got it wrong, by the way, I planted the money under the Hawthorne tree in the Hancock’s front yard.
Me: Ooh. See that’s important information. That means more people were aware of the situation. Why did you go back to dig up that 30 cents?
Dad: Well, I had told my mom and dad what I had done and they told me that’s not how money works. Money doesn’t actually grow on trees.
Me: Ooh. See that implicates them. Personally I think the notorious Marty LeMasters went out there and dug that 30 cents up and put it toward his weekly serving of Alfredo's pizza.
Dad: Good point! Perhaps grandma Joan coerced Tommy into digging it up and then sent him down to buy a pack of Pall Mall Reds.
Me: OH! The possibilities. If only your little five-year-old mind had been as suspicious as mine.

Anyway. The point of this sad little tale is that Nick LeMasters was ripped off. If you know the whereabouts of his 30 cents, please contact us ASAP. Oh…with inflation…I’d say it’s about 5 bucks.

The Childhood Memory of Nick LeMasters

The above photo is of Nick LeMasters with an original Joan LeMasters' haircut. I would also like to report that he still wears white collared shirts on a regular basis.

I was once again regaled by a story from my dad’s childhood. I love his stories and I love the sixties.

The other night my family and I were chatting at my brother Ryan’s house. During this time his dog Chili decided to get cozy with my mom and myself. Chili the dog is a shedder and Ryan is self-conscious about this. So, he told her to get away from us and she wouldn’t listen. Ryan then said, “UGH! Chili if you don’t stop I’m taking you on my cattle drive. Then you can see how other dogs are treated.”

My mom started laughing and said, “Where did that come from?” Ryan immediately told her that it came from her. Yes. That’s correct. When we were kids my mom would threaten us with Kindercare if we were misbehaving. She would say, “If you don’t stop this right now, we’re driving down to Kindercare, and you can see how other kids live.”

I’ve told this story numerous times over the years and was entertained to find out that many parents threaten their kids with similar actions. For some it was a “mysterious bus that will pick them up and take them away” and for others it was “Juvenile Hall.”

This is what parents have to resort to when spanking is no longer allowed by society. I did recently find out that a similar technique was being used in The LeMasters’ household mid 1960s.

Dad: I’ll tell you what. I was so gullible as a kid.
Me: What are you talking about?
Dad: Well, when I was a kid and we were misbehaving at dinner…you know throwing peas at your Uncle Tommy or something…we’d hear a knock. When we would ask what it was, your Grandma Joan would say, “That’s Tommy Joyce. He’s the Sheriff of Vallejo. If you don’t behave, he is going to take you down to the station in the back of his paddywagon.”
Me: Oh.My.Gosh.
Dad: Scared me half to death. Little did I know it was just Grandma knocking on the bottom of the table. It worked like a charm.

I’m not gonna lie to you. I’ll probably be using this technique when I have children.

How To Break The Bank...Circus Style

The circus recently came to Denver, Colorado and some of the LeMasters clan attended. The preparation for the circus was time consuming, but we all wanted to have a fun time with the little ones…within a budget. But, let’s be honest. As with all things like Disneyland, the zoo, the fair, Miracles on Ice, a trip to Target…things tend to get out of hand.

2 Weeks Ago:
Mom: Can you go to the Dollar Store and get some light up toys for the kids, before we go to the circus?
Me: Wooh! We’re sneaking toys into the circus? That’s not okay. We’ll get caught!
Mom: Yeah. Grab some treats, too! You know what a rip off food is at these things.
Me: You realize I’m the one who will be carrying the bag full of contraband, right? If I get caught, I’m dropping the bag and running!
Mom: First of all, I’m never robbing a bank with you. Second of all, I’ll hide stuff in my boots if I have too.
Me: That is disgusting!

Thursday…Day Before The Circus:

Dollar Store (On The Phone):

Me: Hey, Mom! I’m at the Dollar Store and they only have glow sticks.

Mom: Right.

Me: Not right. Glow sticks are stupid. Annie & Zach will want light up toys.

Mom: O.K.A.Y. Get some light up toys.

Me: They don’t have any!

Mom: Then go somewhere else.

Me: This is turning into an ordeal. You said they have light up toys!

Mom: They do. They’re glow sticks.

Me: Fine…I’ll get these, but I’m going to Party City for the good ones.

Mom: Fine. Whatever. It will still be cheaper.

Amount Spent at Dollar Store: $6.00

Party City (On The Phone):

Me: Hey, Dad! I’m at Party City and they have light up toys for 4.99 each. Should I get them?

Dad: Get them.

Me: Are you sure they’ll be cheaper than the circus?

Dad: ABSOLUTELY! GET THEM!

Amount Spent at Party City: $10.oo

Grocery Store (On The Phone):

Me: Hey! What do you want for snacks?

Mom: Whatever…things we can hide.

Me: Ugh! I don’t like this at all.

Mom: You really need to stop worrying about this.

Me: Okay! I’ll grab fruit snacks, starburst, licorice, and mini-Hershey bars.

Mom: And suckers! We need suckers.

Amount Spent at Grocery Store: $10.00

Friday...Night of the Circus

My mom felt that we should eat before heading to the circus, as the food would be over-priced and unhealthy. I feel like I missed out on an amazing fake-nacho-cheese experience, but whatever. We stopped at Chick-Fil-A on the way.

Amount Spent at Chick-Fil-A: $20.00

At this point, we're still on track for a night at the circus without breaking the bank. That is until we arrived and someone (my mom) got a little over-excited.

Mom: Annie, Zach! Go with Auntie and Gramps and they will get you a toy!

Me: Wooh! I thought we brought the light up toys so they wouldn't buy toys?

Mom: Oh! You can't say no.

Me: No one asked for anything! You are offering!

Mom: Be fun, Auntie! Go get the toys.

Me: Yeah. I'm the bad guy. Who went around town buying all the crap in my bag?

Mom: Now we'll have more crap.

Horse: $16.00

Motorcycle: $12.00...Someone was a little tired.

Mom: Gramps! We need popcorn.

Dad: How Many do you want?

Mom: A box for both of the kids...so two.

Total for popcorn: $15.00

Mom: Gramps! We need icies!

Dad: Those are like 15 bucks each.

Mom: We're having fun! We need them.

Total for icies: $30.00

Mom: Gramps! We need clown glasses!

Dad: Nope. Not happening. There is a limit. We've reached the limit. I am literally out of cash.

Me: Seriously, mom. Those things are so cheap and over-priced.

Mom: Wow! Not fun!

By the end of the night, we broke the bank. The Bank of Gramps. So...all in all...total amount spent? Oh! Please! Doesn't matter...It was a priceless night.

Oh! You Never Ask That...

Over the weekend we celebrated Nick’s 1st birthday. After the festivities, we went back to Ryan and Emily’s for a chat. While we sat around and gabbed, we munched on cinnamon bears. They were delicious…and now I’m on a cinnamon bear kick. This means that yesterday I went down to the store and bought a bag of those delicious bears. Every time I purchase a bag of gummies, I always end up thinking about this one Christmas…

It's no big secret that I was a chubby kid…I think we all remember Fat Jeans & Too High of Expectations. I mean, look at these pictures.

How’s that corn dog working out for you?

Really? You can’t put down the bag of Skittles for the picture. Sugar addict.

And this famous picture, I’m pretty sure my mom thought I would win a beauty contest.

Anyway. One Christmas when I was six or seven, my brother Ryan bought me a tin of gummy bears, like a huge tin, like the size of my face. I was so excited! I had never seen so many gummy bears…and they were all mine! I immediately ripped the tin open and started munching. There is literally a home video of me from that night and you can barely hear a word I’m saying because my mouth is full of bears.

So. As Christmas Eve was winding down, Ryan asked me for a gummy bear. Who does that? Why would he ask me for a bear? He gave me the tin. You don’t ask for a piece of candy that you give someone. Why would he do that? They were mine to do as I pleased with!

Oh. Um. Hmm. Did I mention that I had already eaten the whole tin? That’s right. I ate an entire tin of gummy bears in a period of one hour. So, I was defensive and said, “No. Those are mine! You can’t have any.”

But…I think we’ve determined that I can’t lie and people always know I’m hiding something…so my mom starred at me for a second and said, “You ate them all, didn’t you?” My little seven-year-old self was mortified. I think I started crying. I was so embarrassed. Oh. Um. Did I mention that my mom does not respond well when she’s surprised? She actually said, “WOW! I can’t believe you did that.” It was awful. Merry Freakin’ Christmas.

I guess the point of this story is:
1. NEVER ask for a piece of candy you have given me, it’s probably already gone.
2. NEVER say, “You ate them all, didn’t you?” It just makes the person feel worse.
3. NEVER say, “Who ate all the such and such?” I mean, come on, you know who ate it! Why do you have to ask…it’s a guilt trip, that’s why people ask.

Anyway. The cinnamon bears are all gone…Who ate them all? I don’t want to point fingers, but Robyn LeMasters ate them.

A Drug Induced Conversation

Instead of providing you with quotes this week, I decided that a better use of our time together would be to provide you with tidbits from our days at home with my dad…post surgery. If you’ll recall, he is not a nice guy when he has procedures done…Heidi’s & Colonoscopies. So here you go…top one-liners and exchanges.

Dad: Am I being nice?

Dad: I can’t feel my teeth. Something is wrong.
Mom: That’s because your face is numb. You’re fine.
Dad: No. This isn’t right! I can’t feel my teeth. Get a nurse!
Nurse: Sir, this is perfectly normally. You’re just numb.
Dad: Yeah. That’s what I thought. I was just checking.

Dad: Where’s Dayna?

Dad: I want to change.
Mom: I’ll go get you some clothes.
Dad: I don’t want black shorts! I want my white shorts. What is that? I don’t want a button up shirt! I want my Woolrich shirt, the grey one.
Mom (As she walks past me): I want to poke him in the eye.

Dad: Where’s Dayna?

Mom: Nick, please stop trying to smile. It’s creeping me out.

Dad: Where’s Dayna?

Dad: I hate this tape over my nose. It’s really awful. I have to breathe through my mouth and my glasses keep fogging up.

Dad: I’m not wearing these damn blood clot socks anymore.
Mom: You have to wear them for two days. You’ve only had them on for one.
Dad: Don’t care. Not doing it.

Me: Hey. Mom said you want another Jamba Juice, so…
Dad: I don’t want Jamba Juice! I want a muffin.
Me: Okay. Did you have a specific one in mind?
Dad: I want a Starbucks blueberry muffin. Not the non-fat. I want all the fat.
Me: Anything else with that, sir?
Dad: Yes. I want an iced tea. Four Splenda. It’s not right without four. You can get yourself something, too.
Me: Oh. Don’t you worry; you were already buying me something.

This may be my favorite:
Dad: You know what mom said to me? She said I’d be a mean drunk.

He did ask me to take a picture of him, but I think that was the drugs talking...

Insults & Comebacks

It’s no secret that people easily annoy me. It’s not something I’m proud of. But really people! Stop being so weird. Anyway, due to my tendency to dislike people, the following will come as no surprise to anyone.

Today my dad is having his nose surgery. Don’t you love how scientific I am? If you’ve ever had surgery before, you know that you pick your dinner very wisely; as it is the last thing you’ll eat for 12 hours. So the supportive people we are, we joined him at Chipotle. Following our little gathering we went on an impromptu accessories trip.

As per usual, my dad spent that time flipping through books in the shop (most accessory stores have hilarious books). As I was walking around I kept hearing him chuckle. When I asked what he was reading, he told me it was a book called “Insults & Comebacks: Pithy Proclamations.” I was immediately intrigued. I even stopped browsing for a second to join in the fun. Needless to say, we left the shop with the book.

As we were walking to the car, I would read out random insults. After about the fifth insult my dad said, “Huh. You know what’s funny? These sound completely natural coming out of your mouth. You have that perfect sarcastic tone.” I didn’t know whether to be insulted or not.

Anyway. I’ve pulled 10 of my favorite insults from the book. Enjoy!

10. Whatever look you were going for, you missed.

9. Yes. I’ve heard that story before. An hour ago.

8. Oh. I’m sorry. You’ve obviously mistaken me for someone who cares.

7. Oh. My. Gosh. Are you still talking?

6. I wish I was as smart as you think you are.

5. Oh, I’m sorry- I didn’t realize I was supposed to laugh.

4. Okay. Clearly you’ve chosen knowing everything over having friends.

3. As an outsider, what do you think of the human race?

2. I’m trying to imagine you with a personality.

1. I don’t mind your talking as long as you don’t mind my not listening.