Thankful for space, among other things

Thanksgiving marks the official start of the holiday season, and my house proves no exception. The pilgrim decorations that graced the dining room table yesterday morning are now wrapped in tissue paper and in their coordinating labeled Rubbermade containers to give way for the first of the seven themed trees. Despite being twenty-two and eighteen, my brother and I stopped what we were doing to see Santa close the Macy’s parade because everyone knows that the Macy’s parade is the only time the real Santa leaves the North Pole. (All the other Santas in the malls are just Santa’s helpers. This dissolves the insuing confusion between God and Santa– if Jesus is everywhere at once and Santa is in every retail department store, even in just North America… well, it seems appropriate not to take every special feature from Christ during the season.) The potatoes for dinner were served both mashed and sweet, the turkey was sliced, carcus stuffed into a gallon-sized zip-lock for a soup starter later in the week. I refused to make the two boxes of Turkey flavored StoveTop because I ruined it last year. Thank God they come in value packages of three.

Thanksgiving is always interesting with my family. I, for example, would rather have had my ‘taters in the form of tots, but I’d never say that. My Aunt was here this year, which is always a highlight. My aunt is a vegetarian and eats no sugar, and it’s safe to say that my family lives on meat and processed simple-carbohydrates alone. So, to accompany the turkey, cranberry jello, brown sugar and coconut covered sweet potatoes, and other glorious displays of refined sugar, we had spring rolls. In all honesty, soaking the rice wrappers and “don’t break them, they’re fragile!” was the most stressful part of the day. Thank God I didn’t break one, but I wasn’t skilled to wrap them tightly enough. They were stuffed with romaine lettuce, fresh mint, and cilantro, resulting in a taste similar to a clean restroom and organic bunny food. The peanut/lemon/ginger/hot sauce concoction for the spring rolls just radiated a warm feeling of 1400’s pilgrims and indians.  Bug good grief were they delicious.  This just reinforces the fact that I am much more like my aunt than the rest of my family.  It’s nice to know you really do belong, right?

Excerpt form last year: “I’m thankful for… dryer sheets.” ~mom

Josie ate sweet potatoes off my my camera. Heaven forbid I mess up the carpet.

The evening ended with the tradition playing of games, a part of the holiday that I could do without. And by do without, I mean I would rather eat the real mashed potatoes (I really prefer the boxed kind). I played, though I was irritated beyond belief when I lost a game of MAD GAB. That’s a game that I don’t lose because I’m good at language arts!!! God, I hate playing games.

While playing dominoes:
Dad: “Now wait, I think there’s something about the rules… I’m still a little confused…”
Me: “Was it the colors or the numbers?”

Now I’m wondering why the dog food and Triscuits are stored on the floor in the puke container my brother was given when he was at the doctors for the rash he got from tanning-bed overexposure.

Tonight the Georgia Bulldogs men’s basketball team beat the snot out of Alabama A&M. Being in the basketball band gives me the opportunity to be a part of what is surly knows as a collective egotistical and obnoxious jackass and I enjoy every second of the bitchy anonymity.

Tomorrow is the annual big post-Thanksgiving game– UGA vs. Tech.

As the basketball band says: “Here at UGA, we’re better than you, and we know it!”

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