23/11/2001 - 11:18 a.m.

You'd think I'd have things to be thankful for

Usually I have some horrific Thanksgiving story to tell. Not so this year. Except that it's at my stupid uncle Jim's house, where everything in his prefab house is sacred (and plastic, the woodwork is plastic, the wallpaper is plastic, but taking the time to wipe the plastic down with a wet cloth is too difficult so just don't touch it in the first place).

So, my Thanksgiving usually only consists of my father's side of the family (because none of them had the sense to move more than 20 minutes from my grandparent's house). This particular uncle moved four blocks, onto land bought from my grandfather- yeah. So, my family (brother mother father me), 2 grandparents, and my three basically useless uncles (Jim Paul and Fred) and my uncle Fred's various attachments (this one'll be his third marriage when he marrys her, which he will, because he's shaved, which is the telling point, but I'm the only one to have worked this out). However, Fred and Sherri (Yup, Sherri) went to Sherri's sister's house (all the chapel bells were ringing), so they weren't there. This leaves a table for six, and my brother and I who get to sit all by ourselves and get the leftovers, because they're all such pigs that practically nothing's left by the time we get it.

Now, this doesn't even begin to explain about my grandmother. The woman loves to have holiday's at Jimmy's house because then she doesn't have to do hardly anything. OK, she drags over her silverware and good plates the day before, she makes the gravy, turkey, pies, sweet potatos, and mashed potatos using her own stuff at her own house and then drives it over. Upon arriving, she will then set the tables (their's and the one for my brother and I- I resent this because at her house, there's enough room for both of us), and then she will practically do all the dishes afterwards so she can take everything back in her car that night. Please tell me how this is easier for her???

Unfortunately, a few things are saved for Jim's house- rolls, and corn, and she actually does allow the water glasses to be filled there too. Well, the problem here is, the poor little old lady went directly from a wood burning stove to an electric, and has never experienced a gas stove- which is what Jim's got. Last Christmas, we got to stand outside in the snow hoping that the gas had disipated and glad no one had gone ahead and lit the candles in the living rooom. This year, she got someone else to do it for her, and ended up putting the corn in the microwave, which she also didn't understand how to work.

The rolls are made in the bread machine (of which I am the only one who can tell the difference, she used to make them, but the bread machine is her new god), except that she doesn't know how it works, and neither does anyone else (it was a wedding present for Jim's one year marriage- he's not to his second yet, but you can't beat him for length). But they apparently turn out just great (gooey and yeasty, but, whatever).

Jim's refrigerator has one of those ice maker things on the outside, and it took her five minutes with me helping her for her to work out how to fill one glass. I got the job after that, wonder of wonders.

No one died during the meal. Last year we were worried someone might end up poisoned from the gravy, this year from the turkey- my grandmother has a thing about not reading directions. She assumes all brands are alike, and makes them all exactly the same. Well, this year, she had the stupid bird in the oven forever, and "the pop-up timer" that the turkey didn't have, never popped up. So, she ended up sending it to my uncle Paul to deal with. (He has a smoker, and does chickens and sausages and stuff all the time.)

Well, afterwards, rather than indulge in interesting conversation as to my life and what I'm going to do with it, my brother and I cut downstairs and watched "Little Shop of Horrors". They still discussed my life, and as soon as I came upstairs, they had all sorts of wonderfu suggestions for me- most of them based on the referance that I had brought The Picture of Dorian Gray with me and left it on the table. Apparently, some of them had seen the Twilight Zone episode of it, and had a lot of clever ideas. None of them had read it save my uncle Paul. (He's the only one I care for, he's had the sense to stay single and so he's got big cars and dogs and guns, but he's fairly intelligent too, so his reasons and explanations to the above are hilarious).

Luckily, after Christmas, I never see any of them again if I don't choose to. I go to college and my life is my own. I spend my holidays as I like them. I don't know what I'm going to end up doing, since the likelihood of my finding anybody else to do holidays with is slim, but you know, whatever. My mother's already told me she'll be pissed if I don't come back, but I'm inclined to say- what's she going to do? I'd like to come back here sometimes after I'm gone, but since I wouldn't go home, I'd probably end up renting a hotel room or something and just dropping in to Roosevelt and then wandering around DM, which sounds so pathetic.