Every year I get pissed off with my brother because every year during the holiday season, he just tells us the day he's coming - like "tomorrow afternoon." That could mean 1 p.m. or 4 p.m. - or most likely 7 p.m., which is not afternoon AT.ALL.
Mother is mad at me because I am mad at Bruce. Every year there's this mini-drama at our house.
We never have a "traditional" Thanksgiving at our house. Never have, never will. OMG- maybe that is why we ARE typical Americans.
So here are some of our own peculiarities:
There will be no snow. We will most likely be wearing shorts.
We will have a small turkey, and all of us will smother it with gravy and dressing because none of us like it particularly. Our turkey is a tiny thing, poached. Forget getting up at 5 a.m. or basting ANYTHING. That's not how we roll.Sometimes we just buy turkey and ham from Honeybaked Ham, if we can fight the crowds.
My mother doesn't do "stuffing." We have DRESSING, here in the South. And it's always made of cornbread, celery, onions, etc.It ROCKS, Elva's dressing.
We don't do sweet potatoes. None of us like them, except I like sweet potato chips. I may have a few chips, in a small nod to "normalcy."
We don't make green bean casserole.
We don't watch football on TV. Ever. Sometimes I watch a parade, for 5 minutes.
Often, we go to the movie. It's usually not crowded. We may be the only ones in the theater who speak English, but so be it.
We don't have 20 relatives eating with us. This year it will be just Bruce. I have a cold, and I feel yucko, so we're not up for inviting anyone. Sometimes we invite friends.
In past years we've done some Thanksgiving gatherings in the mountains, but not recently.
We put the tree up the day after Thanksgiving, usually. This year Michael has wrestling practice, so who knows when we will get it up, but it will be within a few days of Thanksgiving. Mother and Michael like to get the tree up early. It's artificial, so it won't dry out and turn into a fire hazard.
I used to envy people with more traditional Thanksgivings, but not any more. If I want to, I can slop around all day in pajamas, and play with the dog, and eat chocolate. My bed head may last all day. Nobody cares.
On Thanksgiving morning, Michael and I will have cornbread crumbled into milk and nuked until warm. That's a great tradition dating back to my childhood.
Y'all drive safe to grandma's house...
This was made in 2007, and was Michael's first Thanksgiving ever. That's my uncle Bobby in the red shirt.
