Yes it's true, at times during the holiday season and depending upon my mood, I'm either blessed or cursed with a perfect Norman Rockwell style family life. And after many years of playing the exhausted hostess to thirty or forty guests every Thanksgiving and spending endless hours, days and weeks planning the mega meal and and spending an eternity on my feet in the kitchen cooking just so all of my relatives can descend upon my home and devour it in four minutes flat, I called it quits. I had an epiphany a few years back when after an unusually brutal turkey day, I asked myself why am I doing this? I don't even like turkey and the dressing gives me heartburn and I can't stand the taste of sweet potatoes even with all the marshmallows and pecans and brown sugar and whatever else goes into the horrid dish and the pumpkin pie looks like baby poop on a plate and I can't can't wait for everyone to leave and have my house, albeit a disaster zone that makes Hurricane Katrina look like a walk in the park, to myself once again.
|Thanksgiving, The Slippery Lady Style|
So, I called it quits and didn't look back. Now, every year, I enjoy Thanksgiving day at a local casino where I get a room and partake in all the debauchery offered, slots and cards and boozing and inhaling other peoples cigarette smoke and eating the awful buffet and staying up late and coming home the next day well-rested and thankful for a thankless Thanksgiving.
Try it, you might like it,