Thanksgiving Subterfuge

My 89-year-old grandmother is a teetotaler of the strictest Calvinist variety.  She is also one of those people blessed with the ability to simply not see that which she does not wish to be true. 

                                            

Therefore, not only does she herself not drink, but she is quite convinced that no one else in the family does either.

And – this is the thing that just slays me – we all play along.  So in order to allow Grandmother to remain blissfully oblivious and the rest of us to enjoy our Beaujolais Nouveau, Thanksgiving preparations involve some tactical planning.  My mother, who hosted Thanksgiving dinner for many years, developed this strategy which I will employ next week:

Set up two beverage stations:  one which we show to the assembled old people in denial and one for the rest of us. 

The first one is clearly visible and easily accessible; the second one is somewhere unobtrusive, preferably with sufficient physical obstructions – stairs or dog gates are good – to discourage old people in denial from inadvertently stumbling upon it. 

The first one showcases cranberry juice, and the second one the wine. 

Both stations are equipped with decorative paper cups, but of different designs (thus minimizing the chances that any of us inadvertently grabs the wrong type of beverage).  Cranberry juice and wine in paper cups appear sufficiently alike to maintain our little fiction.

Everyone’s happy except the beer drinkers.

Keg’s down cellar in the fridge.  Here’s a coffee mug.