The Holiday Meal (redux)

It's that time of the year when everything seems to go faster and faster. I have a list in my head of all the things I'd like to accomplish during the holidays, but I'm taking a realistic attitude toward everything. If some items do not get crossed off the list, the world will probably keep spinning. Most holiday stress, even though it is fueled by merchants and media hype, is self-induced. I'm going to take a look at the things I am happy to have, instead of the things I lack.

I hope everyone takes time to relax during the upcoming days, and spends some time with love ones. In the spirit of Thanksgiving cheer, I'm dusting off an older post. Have a safe and happy Thanksgiving!


Debbie carried the last steaming dish into the dining room and positioned it on the beautifully laid table. She beamed at Don, noting with approval that her husband had already carved half of the turkey. Her children, Corey and Chelsea, were just seating themselves, and Steve and Susan were placing their napkins in their laps.

"This looks good, Mom," said Corey. "I'm starved!"

The mingled aromas of roast turkey and dressing, fresh rolls, candied yams, and pumpkin-spice tapers hovered over the assembled family. Everyone looked freshly scrubbed and well-dressed, and the polished silver gleamed in the mid-afternoon light.

Another Holiday Meal with the family.

"Shit!" cried Don, a streak of blood splashing from his thumb to the off-white carpet as he staggered toward the kitchen. "Are you trying to kill me with them damned sharp knives?"

"Sweetie, do you need help?" Debbie called after her husband. "Here, Susan, will you start passing the vegetables while I check on Don?" Debbie hurried into the kitchen, and Don's slurred curses were muffled as the door swung shut behind her.

"Here, y'all, just pass me your plates and I'll load them up," declared Susan, grabbing a plate from Chelsea's place beside hers. "We need to fatten you up, Chelsea! But, you know, I think your face looks a little bit fuller than last time I saw you."

"Oh, God! Really?? Am I fat?" Chelsea bolted from the table.

"Gimme her plate. I'm hungry," Corey yelled, reaching out a pudgy hand to take Chelsea's brimming plate.

"Boy, you look like you done started Thanksgiving way back in January," sneered Steve. "Say, is that eye-shadow you's wearin'?"

"As a matter of fact, yes it is, Uncle Steve. But don't worry, I didn't steal yours, or the panties I found in your man-purse...oh, sorry, satchel," retorted Corey.

"Er, I'd better check on Chelsea. See if she needs help," sputtered Steve, heading toward the bathroom, where the sound of retching could be heard.

"Steve, you stay away from that girl," shrilled his wife Susan, frantically.

"Here," Corey grabbed the plate from a distracted Aunt Susan along with two extra rolls, and lumbered off down the hall. "I'm eating in my room."

Debbie's tearful muffled voice came through the kitchen door, "Don, put down that damned bottle. You promised! Give it to me now!"

"Stay away from me, Uncle Steve! I don't want you to rub my back!" Chelsea screamed from the bathroom.

Susan, alone at the table, looked around sadly. "What was that weird looking stuff in the green beans?" she wondered. "Didn't Debbie know that Rachel Ray said you should never try anything new or different at a Family Holiday Meal?"


I hope your Thanksgiving dinner fell somewhere between Norman Rockwell Advertisement-Unreality and Totally Dysfunctional Family Ordeal.