Hey! It’s New Year’s day, so whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THAT CHICKEN!!
Let me introduce you to my husband, Dr. Gellar. No, not Ross from friends, but Ross from friends. See where I’m going? He’s a scientist at heart, a chemistry major (I know!), and he’s brilliant, a sponge who soaks up information and when squeezed, will drench you with his knowledge. He makes life interesting, and I adore him. And his porous brain.
Here’s a little glimpse into our life today.
Dr. Gellar: “Do you want steak or pork chops for dinner?” (He’s the cook in the family. I can make spaghetti and frozen pizza. And I’m not even Italian.)
Me: “I thought you were going to make chicken.”
Dr. Gellar: “I can’t make chicken on New Year’s day,” he says as if I should know this already, his brow furrowing in frustration at my stupidity.
Me: “Why?” I really don’t want to know. He’s probably just watched some show on National Geographic about how chickens contain arson and that people who eat chicken end up losing brain matter with every swallow. And we eat a lot of chicken. So that must explain why I’m so stupid.
Dr. Gellar sighs and looks down at me, not because he’s condescending, but he’s 6’3″, and I’m 5’3″, so if he looks at me, he looks down. I digress.
Dr. Gellar takes a big cleansing breath, one that I am all too familiar with, one that tells me he’s about to lecture, and I’m going to wish I could take back my question.
Dr. Gellar: “You know how we always eat black eyed peas and cabbage on New Year’s Day?”
Me: “Uh-huh.” Where in hell is he going with this, I think to myself.
Dr. Gellar: “Chickens scratch in the dirt for food, which is symbolic. We don’t want to be scratching in the dirt for food. And another thing, as the chicken scratches in the dirt for his food, he moves backward, which is also symbolic.” He demonstrates, standing in front of me, scratching at he air with his imaginary talons, walking backwards. Then he looks up all serious and says, “We want to go forward, dude.”
Me: “So you want to eat pork?”
Dr. Gellar: “Yes, pigs route forward when they forage for food.” See, who talks like that? This is what I live with, people.
Me: “Yeah, but pigs roll around in their own shit. I don’t want to roll around in my own shit this year.”
Dr. Gellar sighs again. “You’re missing the point.”
Me: “You want to move forward, but you’re ok with rolling around in shit. Is that your point?”
Dr. Gellar: “Then get steaks.” He resigns. All frustrated and annoyed with me.
Me: “Eck. I can’t eat beef.” Dr. Gellar made a superb prime rib for Christmas dinner, a huge prime rib, on which we’ve feasted for a week. Then I got the flu and faced death. I’m not exaggerating. The thought of beef turns me green. I can’t imagine eating any kind of meat really. But beef. I just can’t.
Dr. Gellar: “Then get pork.”
Me: “But I don’t want to get a brain worm.”
Dr. Gellar sighs and starts to lecture me for the 97th time about how I cannot get a brain worm from eating pork that I buy at our grocery store, but I’m not convinced. We’ve danced around this subject so many times. I argue, but in the end, I get the pork, and he’s currently seasoning said pork, which will probably be delicious, but if I never blog again, well then you’ll know. I got a brain worm.
What are your New Year’s traditions? Do you eat black eyed peas and cabbage? Do you fear that feathery little chicken like my husband does? Are you superstitious? Am I missing something? Dr. Gellar seems to think so…a lot.
Cellulite Looks Better Tan 
Well, now i am never eating chicken on New Year’s Day again.
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Kate, Dr. Gellar says, “you’re welcome.” Whatever. He’s a little pompous.
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Hahaha! I have NEVER heard the chicken rule but that’s hilarious.
I never had a tradition until I married into Jim’s family. Now I have to eat herring, which tastes like a fishy loogy; I have to eat cornbread with black eyed peas, and I have to eat pork/sauerkraut. Why? Why so many traditions? And I’ve tried so hard to get out of the herring one, but they MAKE me eat it. Like its a big deal! And it always makes me gag. So gross.
But, on the other hand, we’ve always had good luck….so what do I know?
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Ick. I’m out on fishy loogies. I just gagged again typing that. And again. Why herring? (Herring makes me think of Outlander, which you still need to read.) Why cornbread, and are you pilgrims? I thought only pilgrims ate sauerkraut. And Germans.
An aside: I categorize pilgrims and sauerkraut because in the fifth grade, we had to eat like pilgrims one day, and the only thing I remember eating as tribute to the pilgrims was sauerkraut, so when I envision the Nina, the Pinta, or the Santa Maria, I smell sauerkraut. True story.
Dr. Gellar might have to add some things to his New Year’s menu. I hope it’s not fishy loogies.
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You’re right!!! The pork/sauerkraut thing is an old Pennsylvania Dutch/ German tradition. My FIL is from Pennsylvania (as is my family) and it’s a strong German thing.
The cornbread/B-eyed peas is a southern thing they picked up when they moved to Texas.
The fish loogie on a cracker is from my MIL’s side of the family, but they don’t know where it originated, but an online search suggests it’s either German or polish.
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So there’s no real explanation for the fish loogie. You should get a
blow jobday at the spa? for having to eat a fish loogie even if they throw in a cracker for good measure. Just sayin’.LikeLike
Ha! This is hilarious. I feel like this would be a rather magical way of living… finding odd meaning in every possible act. Or maybe just for New Years.
All I ate today was Starbucks and then hot dogs for dinner… I wonder what that says about me? If we could first figure out what a hot dog is made out of… I would have somewhere to start.
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Magical? Hmmm…I’ve never thought of it like that. As far as hot dogs go, I’m pretty sure there’s at least a trace of pork in there, so according to the hubs, you’re moving forward, unless there’s also chicken, in which case, you’re going backwards. Maybe they cancel each other out. *Shrugs* I would ask my husband, but then he would answer.
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Haha! So I’m like shuffling back and forth in place like some badly animated cartoon. Perfect. That actually makes a lot of sense.
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Everyday I’m shufflin’…
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Crap. We had chicken *featherbrained*
That said, I don’t think English chickens have the same symbolism attached…I *think* they’re just tasty. Especially drenched in spices and hot sauce and wrapped up in bell peppers to make fajitas.
Anyway, chickens fly. I’m down with that.
(I grinned when you said about the sighing and the looking down and the patient explanation. I have one of those)
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Gotta love those patient sweet husbands. Even if I sometimes annoy him with my ignorance.
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Those chemistry people are odd ducks. Hey, ducks eat while swimming forward, right? There ya go! A new tradition. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t wake up hung over and I rather enjoyed that. I might make that a tradition.
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Yeah, he’s kind of a weirdo. I didn’t wake up hung over either but only because I had the flu. I will not make that a tradition.
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Our New Years tradition consists of a few bottles of wine and snacks while sitting on the couch watching the ball drop in Times Square while making fun of all the idiots who stood there for 12 hours freezing with no bathrooms. Good times!
As for chicken! I could eat it every day!
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Oh my gosh! We do that, too. The making fun thing. And the wine. And the snacks. Secretly though, I kind of think it would be sort of cool to watch it live just once. Have you ever?
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I have to agree with Dr. Gellar on this one – go with your superstitious gut. I personally make a pot of black eyed peas with leftover Christmas ham every, and I mean EVERY year on New Year’s Day. Even if I don’t eat a whole bowl, I take at least a spoonful or two ( and I make my reluctant husband do the same). I don’ t know if it’s because I really believe I need them, or if I am just doing one more thing because my mother says I need to. Right now the kiddos are too young to understand, but they will join in the craziness some day soon – one spoonful required, thanks to my mother. I am not superstitious about anything else. My children are allowed to play with open umbrellas creatively all day long indoors. The neighbor’s black cat doesn’t bother me at all as long as it keeps the mice from the nearby field far from my home. I will step on any crack knowing that my mother’s back is unbroken. But, yes, Dr. Gellar and family, New Year’s Day means black eyed peas for a prosperous year at my house. Call me crazy… I’m eating my spoonful!
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How did I miss this? Of course you agree with him. You guys and your traditions. And to keep the tradition going even further….”we do not dunk.”
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HEAD OVER TO MY BLOG. oh sorry about the all caps. Anyway, got some sunshine for ya. xoxo
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I got stuck on “He’s the cook in the family,” and I could barely read the rest through the haze of envy that enveloped me. If my husband was the cook, he could make anything he wanted. But to answer your question, we eat Chik-Fil-A take out on New Years Day because it is my mother-in-law’s birthday and that’s what she wants. It’s better than wormy pork, at least.
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I’m so lucky that he cooks. And he’s excellent. I hit the jackpot with this guy!
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I like your husband’s reasoning, but if anyone made me eat cabbage on New Year’s Day, we would have a problem. In Scotland the traditional January 1 meal is steak pie – steak in gravy with puff pastry and mashed potatoes and maybe peas. It is glorious, and the only thing that makes the day after NYE bearable!
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Oh – the cabbage is my favorite part. But I love cabbage. As far as the Scottish traditions…I told my husband that next year, I want to go to Scotland and celebrate Hogmanay, but I really don’t see that happening. Maybe I’ll just see if he’ll make me a steak pie next year.
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I’ve never heard this before.
Like ever.
It. Well. I see his point I guess.
However if it was me I’d totally go vegetarian on new years day.
To save myself the brain ache.
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I hear ya! I just eat what he cooks for me and try not to complain. I mean, at least HE is cooking. I’ll take it.
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