01
Dec
09

Indian giver

Well, Thanksgiving is over and my life is starting to get back to normal — normal being used in the basic sense of the word.

I think I’m finally done dealing with the holiday.

I wished for all the damn turkey, suckas.

Let me rewind a minute here — for those of you who don’t know, my family is delightfully insane. We don’t have “OMG severe drama”  (like Timmy is high on meth, causing mom to faint, while drunken dad hits on my girlfriend, etc.), but we do have lots of little stuff that leads me to cracking open another beer instead of getting involved in it. For example, when nephew No. 3 had just learned to “potty like a big boy,” he was more than happy to show us … in the dining room, while we were eating our Thanksgiving meal. Or in the middle of the living room while we were sitting around talking. Or about every 3 minutes just to show us that he could. For my sib’s family, meh, it was par for the course and one less diaper to change, so no big deal. So, instead of voicing my discontent, I settled on having another beer while I internally churned.

This year’s drama involved the meal itself. Mom called a few weeks before the day and asked how I felt about turkey for Thanksgiving. My only reaction was, “What the heck are you talking about?”

“Well, I was talking to your sister,  and she was saying how they weren’t too keen on having turkey, since they’ll be having it a lot. But she said to leave it up to you.”

I summed it up in 3 words. “I want turkey.”

Don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful for any kind of free, delicious home-cooked meal. But after not having turkey one year, I found out that I’m a traditionalist. I want turkey and all the fixings. Pass the stuffing, please.

So we eat. Everything goes fine. No nephews were using the potty during dinner. I only drink one Dogfish Punkin. We’re grooving.

Then we start dividing up the leftovers. My sister insists on giving me first shot, but I tell her no, take what you want, and I’ll take the rest. The argument tennisballs back and forth, back and forth. Finally, she basically opts to take some of the sides and gives me all of the turkey, since they’ll be sure to have leftovers from the meal with her husband’s family. Her husband is like, “We have 3 turkeys in the freezer right now, we don’t need any more turkey.” Fine, whatev.

The day after, I get a call from my mom.

Mom: “Did you like the turkey?”
Me:
“Yes, it was really good.”
Mom:
“You didn’t really just throw it out, did you?”
Me:
“God no. If I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t have taken it.”
Mom:
“OK, well, I just got a call from your sister.”
Me:
“Oh?”
Mom:
“Yeah, she was asking me if I had any leftover turkey. ”
Me: “What?”
Mom: Well, apparently they really didn’t have any leftover turkey from their meal last night.”
Me: *laughing hysterically*
Mom: “So she wanted to get turkey from me, but I gave it all to you. I told her to call you, but she said she wouldn’t. But I guess she has mashed potatoes, stuffing and all the fixings, but no turkey…”

Maybe next time she’ll listen to her little brother.

(And for the record, she hasn’t called. So I made, and ate, a turkey pot pie, and will probably make another one in the near future. Mmmm. Turkey and fixins…)

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