The Dark-Eyed Mistress of Sweet, Sweet Pain (jenni_the_odd) wrote,
The Dark-Eyed Mistress of Sweet, Sweet Pain

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This year, given my sleeping habits, I'll probably randomly decide to leave for Houston at 3 AM, arrive at dawn, and scare the hell out of my family by doing so.
At noonish we'll pile into various cars and head to Katy where my uncle Rick and aunt Leslie live. Nicole and some sort of casserole will probably ride with me, everyone else will go in either Claudina and Rolando's car, or my mother's vehicle. Given the number of people, it is entirely possible that Claudina and Rolando's car will be left out of it entirely.
At uncle Rick's, we will attempt to park somewhere not violating zoning ordinances (a difficult thing, as my mom's side of the family will be there, which means no less than 5 cars in a little driveway) and wander to the backyard to see what unholy method of destroying the bird he is using this year. Last year I believe the poor creature was deep-fried.
I will wander outside to watch anyone under the age of 12 participate in some sport (usually a careful attempt at some version of softball using a wiffle ball so as not to break windows; the backyard is a wee little thing), then wander back in when I get too cold. I will sit and watch the relatives watch football, smile and answer the usual questions on how school is going, have I made any new friends, how's my diet going, am I still doing arts and craft stuff, etc. etc. etc. Most of them will not know or at least not remember Kevin, so I will probably not have to deal with a barrage of boyfriend questions. If so, I will not-so-gently direct the conversation towards Nicole, who has had a boyfriend for upwards of 10 months, isn't that something, and duck out the door. She will hate me for this.
I will also probably be asked at some point to keep an eye on the little ones, which includes Emma and some other small child (it varies from year to year) watching a Disney movie somewhere.
I will probably not eat more than a few bites of the turkey, as I still do not trust Rick's cooking despite years of no one dying from Thanksgiving food. I'm telling you, he's just trying to lull us into a fake sense of security. Beware the bird. Nicole and I will also carry on our steadfast tradition of convincing any and all family members who do not live with us that we are on drugs (she succeeded last year; now Rick is a little wary of her). Gabriel will attempt to eat his plate, as well as everything else. Mom will give the Look to approximately two of us (which two is entirely dependent on how silly we feel, sometimes all of us get the Look, sometimes only one or none at all - though that is rare indeed).
After the annual gorging and about half an hour devoted to digestion and dishes, we go on our merry way out the door, lingering only long enough to attempt to remember who brought what in which dish and probably taking home the wrong one, though no one really cares anymore. We then head home, where Nicole will either do homework or insist I take her somewhere, at which point I will have to remind her that it is a national holiday and most places are quite closed. Gabriel will hibernate somewhere for about an hour, then he will be hungry again and I will stare at him incredulously. I will probably go for a walk around the neighborhood and return absolutely freezing because I was raised in Houston and therefore cannot withstand cold temperatures. And yes, 55 degrees farenheight IS cold to me. Dammit. I'm a pansy. And somewhere in the midst of this madness I will find time to do laundry and cuddle Gato.

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