Finding the Thanks

Thanksgiving would probably be more of a favorite holiday if I didn't spend it with the in laws every year.  Generally speaking, I really don't enjoy my time around them.  And fine, I admit to some level of food snobbery.  Growing up in an Italian household everything was homemade every day, but especially on holidays.  Loaves of bread were made specifically to be dried out and made into stuffing.  Pounds and pounds of potatoes were peeled to make mashed potatoes.  Gravy was made from the juices left behind after the turkey was done roasting and from the giblets inside.  Alas, this is not so at the in laws.

It's not really true that there is no mental anguish at the in laws, but I still think it's funny.

The stuffing is Pepperidge Farm.   The mashed potatoes are frozen.  The green bean casserole is that bland horror made with can after can of Cream of Crap soup.  The salad is a horrible mixture of iceberg lettuce, cherry tomatoes, copious amounts of raw onion and bottled Italian dressing which mother in law adds extra salt to (and every year several in attendance go on and on about how the salad is the best part of this meal.  Really?  I don't get it myself).  The gravy is a pasty gloppy, lumpy mess of I don't even know what.  Even the pies are frozen.  I can say the turkey is real and the sweet potatoes are actually roasted and don't have marshmallows on them.  Thank goodness.

Yes, I did say I'm a bit of a food snob but for goodness sakes it's a holiday!  Peel a fucking potato!  Fine you don't have to make your own bread for the stuffing but can you at least buy bread and season it yourself?   And the gravy!  I don't even know what it's made from.   I do know it's very light colored, very thick and very lumpy.  Last year I came into the kitchen just as the turkey was being taken out of the oven.  It was upside down (breast side down) and no one even realized it.  Mother in law was concerned about the doneness because the little thermometer thingy didn't pop out and the bird just looked weird.  I said, "that's because it's upside down" and they all looked at me like I had sprouted turkey feathers.  Mother in law and sister in law look at it and then back at  me and said, "how did you know that?  We stared and stared at it and couldn't figure out why it looked so strange, you see it for a few seconds and you knew?"  I wanted to say, "because I have a brain and eyes?"  But I just said, "the legs are pointed in the wrong direction" or something like that.  They shrugged and went back to work.  It was then that I witnessed maybe the most heinous food crime I have ever seen.  Father in law came and took the bird out of the pan and then mother in law proceeded to dump, yes dump, all the delicious turkey juices in the pan down the drain!  I seriously and quite audibly, gasped.  And again they all looked at me like I suddenly had a big red turkey waddle under my neck and put my hand over my mouth and walked out of the kitchen in horror.

My contributions to the dinner are cornbread and broccoli rice casserole.  The casserole in the past, before I knew any better, had been made with cream of crap soup and other atrocities like Cheez Whiz, but I redid the recipe so that it uses actual mushrooms, Bechamel sauce and real cheddar cheese.  It's about a zillion times better.  So generally speaking I eat turkey, cranberry sauce (which surprisingly, mother in law actually makes), my dishes, and sweet potatoes.  Everything else stays off my plate, which basically means I don't over eat on Thanksgiving, so I guess I am thankful for that.

Nice segue... being thankful.  Yes, it's true even with all my bitching and complaining about a dinner I'm not really fond of, I am thankful that I get to be in a place where I can have a dinner.   I'm thankful for my family even though at times I want to smack them upside the head.   I am thankful for my friends, old and new.  I am thankful that I know love.   I am thankful for my kitties.   I am thankful for the music that fills my life every day.  I am thankful for you.

Take Your Misery Somewhere Else

I've known and still know people who seem to live in misery.  Everything is horrible.  They constantly bitch. Nothing good ever happens.  There are no laughs.  It's just a long life of nothing but drudgery.  Why live that way?  Granted I have my moments, but in general I have a lot of joy.

Take my in laws for example, mother in law and sister in law.  Two peas in a pod they are.  They live in misery, and by that I mean that they truly seem to hate their lives, everyone around them, and everything they do.  Mother in law is the worst.  She is never happy.  She constantly, and I do mean constantly, bitches at father in law.  If he said the sky was blue, she would argue with him that it's green just to argue.  Does that sound like I'm exaggerating the issue?  Because I'm not.  She hates him.  And her misery at never having left, never having changed her life, never doing a damn thing about it, filters over onto everyone.  She is mean and hateful, as I've written about here.  And the funny thing is, I always noticed it.  I've known this family since 1987 and I noticed it immediately, but no one else did.  Or they were immune to it.  When I asked the man what was up with his parents way back in those early days, he didn't know what I was talking about.  It never dawned on him that it was a little odd that his parents had separate bedrooms.   Now I know people have separate bedrooms for a variety of reasons, not the least of which are snoring problems, but this was not for any other reason than their relationship was over.  And it's been over.  And yet they stay together I guess because neither knows what else to do.  It's sad.  An existence that is merely that, an existence.  No laughs, no love, no sex, no conversations that aren't arguments.  Who would want to live like that?

Which brings me to sister in law.  She who had a front row seat to this behavior and has adopted it for herself. She barks at her husband every chance she gets, which is whenever they speak.  Very often I've wondered why things like that aren't kept private.  I mean if you want to bitch out your husband, does it have to be at a family function?  Can we not have our 5 fucking 30 cake in peace without all this drama because he doesn't hold the fucking fork the way you do?

Like I said, I've had my moments.  But I could write a blog like the one previous to this one, which was introspective, kind of sad and depressing, and then the minute I hit post something could happen that will make me laugh, a real laugh.  Not a polite one.  It could be something someone says, something I read, or most likely something stupid that I do myself.  And most of that sour mood will vanish.  It won't make the issue go away, but it will lift the mood.  And then I'm back.  I'm back to being the same 45 year old purple haired, tattooed horn dog who can't seem to get enough sex, enough laughs, enough music, enough love, and enough of life to suit me.  I don't ever want to be one of these miserable people.  I want to experience everything.  I want to cook the greatest meal.   I want to fuck my brains out.  I want to see the best live music.  I want to have a lifetime of joy and laughter.  And no one will stop me from having it.

Can I Have Dinner First?

There's a little thing that my in laws do that is known by me, as 6 o'Fucking Clock Cake.  I don't know the origins of this annoying as hell phenomenon but I do know there are far too many of them throughout the year for my liking.  Basically my mother in law gathers all the family together to celebrate a birthday and she plans this gathering at 6 pm.  There is no food involved, just cake and ice cream.   Cake and ice cream at 6 pm.  Sometimes it's 5:30 pm... and then it's known as 5 Fucking 30 Cake.  Either way, I hate it.  I hate this whole stupid event.  And here's why....

• 5:30 pm is a stupid time to have cake and ice cream.
• Gifts are expected
• 6:00 pm is a stupid time to have cake and ice cream.
• It's always on a Saturday.  
• Saturday at 5:30 pm or 6:00 pm is a STUPID FUCKING TIME TO HAVE CAKE!!!!!

Before we lived in Akron, we very easily got out of participating in this nonsense.  But we've been here for close to 9 years now and my in laws house is literally right around the corner.  Unless we have other plans, plans we have made prior to being told that 5 fucking 30 cake is coming up, we end up trapped.  At least we no longer have to buy gifts for everyone.  Sometime last year we made the general announcement that only parents and children under 18 will be receiving gifts from now on.  Brother in law followed suit with that and he no longer gifts either. 

And so on the occasion of January 22 it was, yet again, time for my 6 O'Fucking Clock Cake.  I'd be more than happy to tell them not to have it for me.  I've already told them not to buy me gifts.  But there was no way out this time.  It's not just my birthday, it's the niece's birthday and now it's also the other niece's baby's birthday.  And it was the baby's first birthday.  So 6 o'fucking clock cake was a done deal for us this year.  No outs. 

I know what you're asking yourself right now... do you bake the 6 o'fucking clock cake?   The answer to that is oh hell no, fuck no, absolutely not and there is no way in hell I'd ever make it!  Why?  Because they don't appreciate it.  I have offered many times to make 6 o'fucking clock cake.  You'd think having someone who does this for a living in your family would be a no brainer.  But one time when I did, I set the cake down in the kitchen only to find a box of Pepperidge Farm layer cake sitting there.  When I asked the mother in law what that was for the answer I got was, "that's in case someone doesn't like your cake."   Seriously??  When you make your shitty boxed cake do you have a fucking homemade pie sitting there waiting in case I don't like it?   No?  Then what the fuck!?   I can happily report that no one ate the Pepperidge Farm cake that day.  But that's besides the point.

On another occasion I asked mother in law if she would like me to make a cake.  I had a new recipe for a chocolate cake that was out of this world.  She didn't respond.  So I didn't make it.  When we arrived for that particular 6 o'fucking clock cake function there was no cake and very soon, mother in law was putting on her coat.   I asked sister in law, who's birthday it was, what was going on and she told me mother in law was going out to buy a cake.  I asked why and from the kitchen I hear mother in law slamming things and screaming, "SHE said she was going to make the cake.  SHE said it would be the chocolate cake."  Being the SHE in question here I was done, out, screw you guys I'm going home.  I told the Man there was no way I was staying and going to be treated that way and he said he'd walk me home.  On the way, we discussed how we were both in the room when I asked her if she wanted me to make it and we both knew she did not respond.  And in fact, she had called that very morning and never once said one word about the cake.  No "looking forward to the cake," "is it baking yet?"  Nothing, not a word.   So it will be a cold day in hell before I ever bake a 6 o'fucking clock cake again.

And so we're back, and it's time to open gifts.  Of course we all watch the baby open her stuff, or try to.  I am given several cards and ugh, two gift bags.  One I expect since the in laws will always buy something.  But everyone else, please... stop!!!!   And especially after this year.  After all this time, these people do not know me at all.  Really.  Up first, sister in law.  I open the bag and inside is a little box that says Willow Tree on it.  And inside the box is a small figurine of a child holding a cat.  Yes, that picture is exactly what I received.  Wow.  That might just be the most ridiculous thing I ever received.  Even the 11 year old daughter of sister in law declared, "I told mom, Aunt Lalia is going to hate that!"  And hate it I do.  She should have listened to the kid!

But wait, it actually gets worse.  After opening sister in laws gift and feigning joy, I got to open mother in laws gift.  In what universe would anyone who knows me think I would want something like this is beyond my comprehension but here it is.  It's a banner with a big wooden key at the top and a big heart on the banner itself.  It says, "The Heart of a Home is Love." "How lovely," I say, while my mind races with absolute horror.  Who are these people?  Have they met me?  I'm not trying to be all gift horsey, but I think if you knew me for five minutes you would know that I would not want either of these things.  These people have known me for 23 years!   I don't even know what else to say about it other than they must all hate me more than I ever thought.

And now it's time for cake.  Mother in law has made her patented ginormous cake... two boxed cake mixes made in 9 x 13 pans and then sandwiched together with instant pudding in the middle and Cool Whip on top.  No, there wasn't a homemade pie sitting there in case me or someone else didn't want that piece of crap.  But there was a homemade pie waiting for me at home.  So as soon as the singing was over, the baby dug her hands in her personal little cake, and everyone was served, we made our escape to go home and have dinner and then partake of the pie.  Happily there isn't another 6 o'fucking clock cake party to attend for a few months.  Maybe I'll get lucky and need a root canal that day.