Two Weeks To Thanksgiving

I am not looking forward to Thanksgiving. Especially if these things happen:

A) Some idiot relative decides to invite us over for Thanksgiving.

B)The idiot who does is my grandma or my aunt Wanda.

Granted, my Aunt Wanda is not an idiot, but she'd be a fool to let all of her by-marriage relations descend on her house like a horde of locusts. Last year when Thanksgiving was dead-ended (Grandma slipped on the ice and broke herself) Wanda took off for her parents house and locked the place up. Then when Grandma and her Sordid Company came through wanting to use her bathroom, they found the place closed up entirely. Grandma might have complained, but the rest of us rejoiced Wanda becoming one of us rebels.

Mom has already promised me use of my laptop if we go to either Grandma's or Wanda's this year. It keeps me out of trouble, and I get ignored anyway.

See, Anna and Sara are usually hanging around with our cousin Lexi, who's the same relative age, but since Cara (5 months older than me) and Tanya (3 years older) ignore me because I'm smarter than the both of them put together and I actually refuse to bow to the power of the Yacht Club (Grandma's inclusive little club of relatives that you are either in the right genetic line for or you give her a lot of money to get under her good graces)

Tanya didn't learn to spell until I taught her. She hasn't gotten any brighter since then, and since two years ago she pulled the great Bridesmaid Bluff and made me mad I have not spoken a civil word to her.

Cara used to be my opposite. When she came up for Christmas she helped me with my math homework and I helped her with literature. Then Tanya decided Cara was the more pliable of the two of us and started pushing me away from them, inviting Cara over to her house with the hot tub but not me, inviting her to movies but mysteriously forgetting to ask me along.

Then two years ago, Tanya was getting married, and right in front of me on Thanksgiving Day, she started talking about Cara being her bridesmaid.

I probably would have said no anyway, but the fact that she never even bothered to ask me was the straw that broke the dromedary's back. From that moment on, I was enraged. I was pissed. I was so angry I boycotted her wedding and vowed that I would have nothing to do with her for the rest of time.

May seem extreme, but this is 15+ years of being shoved under. I stood up for myself here. Applaud my efforts- I worked with what I had.

Grandma, meanwhile, is a hypochondriac. Any mention of illness and she starts to cough, hack, wheeze, and literally turn to dust before your very eyes. I cannot mention my current problems in front of her or risk watching her gripe about the tuberculosis she had 50 years ago. Her arthritis is bad, too, SO bad...she's having trouble breathing...she's passing out on the floor...

There are times when I want to stick her in a washer upside-down, turn on the spin cycle, and give her some real problems.

Uncle Greg, meanwhile, sleeps. Or if he's awake, he watches the Packer game, and in between plays, he discusses (very loudly) politics and the world in general to whoever will listen and answer back.

Amanda and Bethany, the family/village idiots, will show up and drift dreamily and aimlessly around, completely unaware of anyone or anything but themselves. This is better than the running and screaming they used to do, but not much. They're still useless. One year at Thanksgiving, Anna, Sara, and Lexi got them outside in the garage, deliberately roped them into a game of Twister, mysteriously got them in grotesque positions, broke the spinner, and told them to stay exactly where they were (in position) while they went inside to fix the spinner.

It only took the Wonder Twins a half hour to figure out that Anna, Sara, and Lexi were never coming back outside.

My mother was proud of them (said she'd have done it herself, actually) but she still kind of half-scolded them for being mean.

Then there's the bitterness between my mother and Amanda and Bethany's father Evan (her dislike breeds us three's). Nathan, Greg's son, is left to do everything alone as the youngest grandson with all girls around (next grandson up is at least 10 years older at 24).

All of these pathetic, hopeless beings plus us five anarchists and antagonists, get smashed into a room together and are expected to LIKE it.

You see why I bring my laptop to family parties? I can't stand any of them.

There isn't much going on today. I decided to gripe about my relatives. It's always amusing.

Cheers,
Bec