Happy Thanksgiving Y’all!

Thanksgiving is my very favorite holiday. The food is divine (thanks to my divine Mother) and there isn’t any pressure-fllled gift giving. It’s just food, football, and family. And I love it.

BUT

I am not unaware of the potential hazards of the holiday. Namely, the extreme hazard of getting involved in a controversial/emotional conversation with a family member. Basically, Thanksgiving can be a controversy obstacle course. In the past, I have pretty much comically tripped over every obstacle because, well, because I’m me. But, this year I’m prepared.

Any time anyone says anything remotely controversial, I will utter the  following in a robot voice.

“I have registered your opinion and filed it in my memory banks. Please proceed to the next topic.”

Also, I’ll do the robot while saying that. I don’t think anyone will be able to continue on after that.

I just saved Thanksgiving y’all.

 

At Some Point, We’ll Just Have To Admit I’m Clairvoyant

This is not that point. I mean, I think we’re almost there, but not quite. You remember a couple weeks ago, when I couldn’t tell my stress symptoms apart from pregnancy symptoms? Well, in the past two weeks, TWO of my cousins have announced they’re having babies.

Obviously, what I was doing two weeks ago was sensing the baby announcements and because my gift is so raw and untrained, I was a bit muddled about the details of what I was sensing. It wasn’t my own pregnancy (obviously) it was THEIRS. It all makes sense now y’all. I really think we are rapidly approaching a point where we will just have to admit I’m clairvoyant. Again, not right now, we’re not there yet, but we are definitely getting there. Don’t you think?

Thanks Mom and Dad.

When I was 16 or so, I really really wanted to go to the Nickleback concert.

It’s true. Shameful, but true. I liked Nickleback. I liked them so much I was willing to part with 40 of my hard earned waitressing dollars, to see them perform live. Personally, I would like to chalk this up to the follies of youth. Also, I liked Creed. Feel free to point and laugh and me, but those bands both made a LOT of money so I know I’m not alone here. Alone in admitting it perhaps….

Anyway, I didn’t go to the Nickleback concert. Why? Because my parents were convinced that the band’s name was Nicklebag , which was a clear drug reference and the parents contrary don’t cotton to drug use y’all.

So, thanks Mom and Dad. Because I can honestly say I’ve never been to a Nickleback concert, which means all the cool kids at the coffee shop will still talk to me…for like 10 minutes until I reveal myself in all my uncoolness, but those 10 minutes of brief cool-adjacentness are all because of y’all.

Sister Contrary Is A Baller.

I haven’t talked about my sister on this blog very much, mostly because I think I have humiliated/forced her to eat cat food enough for one lifetime, but y’all, I think it’s important for you to know that my sister is a baller. Maybe she’s so cool because of the ceaseless teasing and torture I inflicted upon her (lovingly) as kids. In fact, yeah, let’s go ahead and say that she’s as cool as she is because of me. Unfortunately, my plan of teasing her into coolness had a flaw, which is, she’s like LOTS cooler than me now, as proven over the weekend at a family dinner.

Sister Contrary: I want to live like a King and Queen with my husband. You know separate rooms, but he can like, come and visit my room whenever he wants, except after (note: she’s talking about after sex here ….) he has to go back to his own room. 

This girl is so cool. She said that in front of our Dad. Our Dad.

 

On The Bright Side.

So, I lost the family kickball game on Thanksgiving. Actually, not only did my team lose, I ended up in a duck pond up to my knees in cold water and what I suspect to be quicksand to retrieve the ball that Captain Thoughtful kicked in there. On the bright side, it totally counted as a home run so that part was worth it. On the other bright side, Grammy didn’t play at all, so I didn’t lose to her which is what matters the most.
On the brightest side. Grammy has given me her blessing to start blogging about her again after she read my post about playing her in kickball. The exact conversation went something like this…
Grammy: Your Mother read me the post you wrote about me.
Me: See, the thing is, Mom made that up herself. I had nothing to do with it. My blog got hacked. It was probably terrorists.
Grammy: It’s ok! I loved it!

Me: Oh. Yeah, in that case, I totally wrote it.
Grammy: In fact, I think you should blog about me more often.
Me: Huh. That’s interesting because I remember you saying the exact opposite of that not too long ago.
Grammy: I don’t remember the conversation that way. And anyway, your posts about me are the best ones you write.
Me: Ok……thanks???
Grammy: You should write more posts about me and then someone will finally want to give you a book deal. People want to read about me.
Me: You know something, I wouldn’t be surprised if it happened that way.
Grammy: And when you get a book deal, I’ll be your manager.
Me: Whoa. Slow down a bit….
Grammy: It’s fine, I don’t want any money.
That’s where the conversations stopped because I was afraid to ask what she did want, if not money. Mostly because I think she was going to say “Your first born.” not because she’s Rumplestiltskin, but because she just really wants some more great-grandbabies.

Weddings Are Hilarious.

There are a lot of people who look forward to your wedding. Some people look forward to the meal, some to the booze, some to the togetherness, and some people apparently look forward to interpreting the way you and your groom dance. Those people are called “Grammy”.

Now, I’ll tell  you what Grammy said but you have to promise not to tell her I’m blogging about her again because then I’ll be in big trouble and I’ll never blog about her again and then we all lose. Don’t be the person who makes everyone else lose. Ok? Ok.

Grammy: I don’t know if I’ll be able to contain myself when you’re walking down the aisle.

Me: Don’t. If you feel like clapping and shouting “Hallelujah” then please do. There aren’t any rules at my wedding. Except for two rules which are no smoking and no flip-flops. So, please feel free to express yourself in any way you see fit that doesn’t involve smoking and flip-flops.

Grammy: What would people say?

Me: I don’t care. It’s my wedding and I want everyone to have a blast, and if that means clapping and hooting and hollering, then so be it.

Grammy: I’ve never seen anything like that before.

Me: I think there will probably be a lot about my wedding that you haven’t seen before.

Grammy: Are you talking about alcohol?

Me: Yes. And also dancing. There will be LOADS of dancing.

Grammy: Oh! I’m looking forward to that! I would really like to see how Captain Thoughtful’s body communicates with yours.

(Pause for hysterical laughing)

Me: You mean through the art of dance?

Grammy: Sure! It will be very telling.

Me: Yeah, we’re going to stop this conversation right there.  

So, that’s a thing my Grammy said. So many people say that weddings bring out the worst in people, but I have to say, this is some of Grammy’s best material.