Andy and I didn’t travel this Thanksgiving. We’re staying in LA and having dinner with his three cousins, their spouses, and his aunt and uncle. Andy’s happy, because it’s low stress and highly economical.
He’s got a point. Yet I’m sad I’m not with my own white and uptight family, playing hearts and pigging out. This year, we wouldn’t even fight over politics — even Republican Big Brother agreed that Trump is a walking horror show. Continue reading Thanks (#160)
Andy’s parents called once before we left to get our flight information. Sunny asked Andy if there was anything we wanted to eat. He told her no, anything was fine. Which it was – FOR HIM. Andy can – and will – eat anything from animal brains (inaccurately, but oh-so innocently labeled “sweetbreads”) to Rocky Mountain Oysters (bulls’ balls). Continue reading Thanksgiving with Jay (#97)
I took a boyfriend home for Thanksgiving at my Ex-Stepfather’s house. Once. Ethan came from a small, immigrant family and thought my description of tons of food, alcohol, card games, and siblings sounded awesome.
“Mostly we play Hearts,” I warned him. “It’s brutal.”
My siblings and I once celebrated Thanksgiving in the traditional fashion. We met at my Ex-Stepfather’s house in the DC suburbs and pigged out. Family members brought appetizers and wine. (A LOT of wine.) Drinking, eating, and cards started around noon. Football games played on the living room TV. The turkey was usually served by 4 PM. Dishes were finished around 7. Our exercise consisted of a slow walk around the neighborhood about 7:30.