...
So many negative connotations clashing with the positive ones... for my whole life... I would usually split at some point for a long walk at the beach. Even when I was doing Thanksgiving turkeys for the poor, protein-starved monks at the monestery every year, it would end up dragging at my soul because, no matter how many turkeys I cooked, they ate them all down to the bone like starving people from some desperate land... not even enough left for a midnight turkey sammich.
Mountains of stuffing. Mountains of mashed potatoes. Gallons of gravy. Never bothered with vegetables. They were sick to death of vegetables. No need even for pie. Just starch and fat and protein. As much as you could put in front of them.
I'd always plead with my parents for us to go somewhere fun for Thanksgiving or Christmas so there would stop being the terrible aggravation of working so hard to put on a great holiday meal only to have my mother and her brother fighting about when was dinner and what order whatever was happening and then days and weeks of griping and resentment about the disparity of presents, just petty, petty, petty, when we could all go to some nice mountain town or National Park and stay at a lodge with a fabulous restaurant and make merry without all the rest of the bullshit.
But nope.
That's not how it's done. I'm all, "It doesn't have to be done any particular way. Celebrating, fer crapsakes, is supposed to be celabritory."
Oh, you're so damn weird.
pipe up any time....
