Thanksgiving Games

D tagged me with a meme (is that pronounced meem? Or mem? Discuss.) but I don’t feel like working on it right now. I can not believe there’s only one weekend until Thanksgiving!

Thanksgiving in our family is now like some demented game of beat the clock. My brother (married, kids) alternates Thanksgiving and Easter with his in-laws. This year it’s his turn to spend time with our family. D and I, we travel all over the state. Twice the food, but none of the relaxation! (And don’t suggest doing what my brother does. You’ve obviously forgotten my MIL – “I’m going to die soon and I need to see my precious doll every chance I get”. Even though she’s healthy for an 80 something year old woman. She’s Italian. Enough said.).

When my mom was alive, we’d go to my grandma’s for Thanksgiving. My grandma would make the turkey, and my mom would make everything else. That Wednesday would be a cooking frenzy – she’d make as much as she could ahead of time, then get up early on Thursday and finish. Because we eat at noon. But ever since she died, we all just seem to go around in circles about who’s going where and eating what.

My grandma still has Thanksgiving dinner, except now it’s my aunt that cooks. And while I love my aunt, she has a tendency to underestimate how much food is needed, so it ends up like the loaves and fishes. Add to that that fact that my cousin is diabetic so she cooks very plain food, it’s just not the same. If it wasn’t my brother’s turn to spend Thanksgiving with us, that’s where’d we be. Except add four more people to the mix and it causes problems, especially for people who aren’t used to cooking for large hungry crowds.

So my dad tells me (at C’s birthday party) to figure out what we’re doing and where we’re going. This involves me emailing my brothers (after talking to my sister in law at C’s party) and telling him what we’ve decided. Thanksgiving at my brother’s (the married one) house. But when I talk to dad the next time, he says we’re invited down (she lives next door, down the hill) to ‘your grandmother’s. It could be her last Thanksgiving, you know’. Then I try to talk him out of that because the one brother who’s closest to my aunt finds out she’s stressing about all the people who could potentially be there. So around and around we go. Go out for Thanksgiving dinner? Good idea, but dad doesn’t like to leave the city of Bristol.

We finally end up agreeing on going to my married brother’s house for dinner.