Thanksgiving is not a great holiday in my life. I just don’t care one way or the other.
We used to make a big deal about Thanksgiving in my family, only now not so much. Back then it was at Nana’s house. When Papa moved into a nursing home, they had a “Tavern” room that we could use, so we just moved Thanksgiving to him. As his disease progressed and his health deteriorated, he was no longer able to eat. So Thanksgiving, where we all were eating in front of him, just seemed mean. So we stopped having it.
I don’t eat Thanksgiving food, really. I don’t care for turkey, stuffing is gross, cranberry sauce that is shaped like a can is not original. So it was no big loss. Family members have started going elsewhere–the other side of the family, basically. This year is no different. My mom has been invited for the first time to my younger sister’s house, and she lives in Philly. My brother’s future brother-in-law has, for the first time, invited his family to Martinsville for the holiday, so they are going.
Me? Well, I think I’m going to grab a friend and go to the Muppet Movie. 🙂
I am having a Thanksgiving, though. One I am actually excited about. At my house, and I”m even going to cook turkey–even if it is a turkey tenderloin. This Saturday I have 10-12 people coming over. It’s a group that I hang with on Tuesday nights. I originally started hanging out with them because we would get together to watch the last few seasons of Lost. We have progressed to still getting together every week, and now we watch old episodes of Charmed. I go when I can, as work gets in the way more often than not, but I think we’re up to season five. And the group has grown, and new friends are made. We try to get together for every major holiday, and this year I offered to host Thanksgiving.
The family you choose to be with is sometimes more enjoyable than the family you’re born with. Don’t get me wrong, I love my family, but it’s not the same. I had lunch with someone today who nailed it for me for the first time–I see my family so often, that Thanksgiving just isn’t special. It’s just dinner. So this surrogate family, this group of friends, this gang of people who I haven’t seen regularly in months because of work–they’re the ones that I am going to be dining with this Saturday. They’re the ones that are making this holiday enjoyable again for me.
The only problem with this, well, I guess it goes back to the fact I’m working insane hours. My house is TOAST. I have got about two weeks of cleaning to do, and I have done none. The summer/winter closet switch is still in progress (week seven). The bridesmaids dresses I have tried and rejected, etc. are hanging all over. The dog toys are everywhere. The big bin of photos from Grandma’s house is still sitting in the recycling bin in my kitchen–right where I put it back in September when I got it. The scrappy supplies from making my future sister-in-law’s shower gift is all over the kitchen table–along with the crystal I couldn’t find a place for from that same trip to Grandma’s in September. I have had lists and plans and intentions out the wazoo for cleaning, and so far nothing has happened.
So come Thanksgiving this Saturday, I shall be a giant neurotic mess.