Thanksgiving Curse, Strike...
... damn. I lost count.
Thanks for all your well-wishes on my Turkey Day Hiatus post. I know you assumed I was celebrating with thanks, but what I was actually doing was hiding under the bed. I was hiding from the Thanksgiving Curse.
Thanksgivings were horrible holidays for me as a child. I had a set of relatives on Sarge's side that insisted on spending that day with us. They HATED me. To this day they refuse to recognize that I am family. Believe it or not, I actually prefer the status quo of now, when compared to the hell I went through as a child. All that torture I endured seeped into this bastard of a holiday and cursed it. I have never had a decent Thanksgiving -- no, not one to my recollection.
My grandmother died the day before Thanksgiving.
My step-dad died three days before Thanksgiving.
In my previously life, I was forced to spend Thanksgiving in a trailor with my in-laws and approximately 20 - 30 pomeranians. YOU try eating and fellowshipping under those conditions.
In my current life, my kids go to their dad's (to carry on the above-mentioned tradition) while I end up having dinner at Bennigan's.
And if that weren't bad enough...
The phone rings at 10pm Wednesday night, and it's my sister. She is hysterically relaying the details of my mother's hospitalization while driving 90 miles an hour down HWY 50. Ten minutes later I'm starting the two-hour drive to their town. I arrive at midnight, the first moments of this oh-so-thankful-day, to see my mother hooked up to machines, bp running rampant, and "we're not sure what's wrong" floating through the corridors. They kicked us out at 2am and we slept in a Hampton Inn.
At 10am I was back, and I spent the entire day sitting by her bed. We watched the Macy's Day Parade, the Westminster Championship, and Miracle on 34th Street. She ate bland turkey at noon, with bland dressing and bland pumpkin pie. When we left at 4pm, they still didn't know what was wrong with her.
I had dinner at Bennigan's.
I really hate Thanksgiving. It is my Friday the 13th, but thankfully (ha!) just once a year. I guess I do have something to be thankful for, in that Thanksgiving has a 1:365 ratio.
I surely hope your Turkey Day was better.
Thanks for all your well-wishes on my Turkey Day Hiatus post. I know you assumed I was celebrating with thanks, but what I was actually doing was hiding under the bed. I was hiding from the Thanksgiving Curse.
Thanksgivings were horrible holidays for me as a child. I had a set of relatives on Sarge's side that insisted on spending that day with us. They HATED me. To this day they refuse to recognize that I am family. Believe it or not, I actually prefer the status quo of now, when compared to the hell I went through as a child. All that torture I endured seeped into this bastard of a holiday and cursed it. I have never had a decent Thanksgiving -- no, not one to my recollection.
My grandmother died the day before Thanksgiving.
My step-dad died three days before Thanksgiving.
In my previously life, I was forced to spend Thanksgiving in a trailor with my in-laws and approximately 20 - 30 pomeranians. YOU try eating and fellowshipping under those conditions.
In my current life, my kids go to their dad's (to carry on the above-mentioned tradition) while I end up having dinner at Bennigan's.
And if that weren't bad enough...
The phone rings at 10pm Wednesday night, and it's my sister. She is hysterically relaying the details of my mother's hospitalization while driving 90 miles an hour down HWY 50. Ten minutes later I'm starting the two-hour drive to their town. I arrive at midnight, the first moments of this oh-so-thankful-day, to see my mother hooked up to machines, bp running rampant, and "we're not sure what's wrong" floating through the corridors. They kicked us out at 2am and we slept in a Hampton Inn.
At 10am I was back, and I spent the entire day sitting by her bed. We watched the Macy's Day Parade, the Westminster Championship, and Miracle on 34th Street. She ate bland turkey at noon, with bland dressing and bland pumpkin pie. When we left at 4pm, they still didn't know what was wrong with her.
I had dinner at Bennigan's.
I really hate Thanksgiving. It is my Friday the 13th, but thankfully (ha!) just once a year. I guess I do have something to be thankful for, in that Thanksgiving has a 1:365 ratio.
I surely hope your Turkey Day was better.
posted by Robin at 9:36 PM
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