Thematic Thursdays: No Thanks

Your turkey is probably in the oven, or perhaps you’re heading to grandma’s. Maybe you’re even bringing a side dish to compete with your sister-in-law’s famous macaroni and cheese. Even if you are mustering up the patience to deal with the cousin you never could stand, you are preparing to spend Thanksgiving Day with your family.
I don’t have that option at the moment — spending time with family. I’m sure one day it will return. Until then, I kind of have beef with “Turkey Day.” Aside from the convoluted foundation of the holiday, my family has never really been the same since my Great Great Great Aunt died during the holidays in 1998. She had a stroke while preparing the desserts several days before Christmas. She only lasted a few days after that, but we actually ate the last meal she’d prepared that Christmas. 
She was the rock of the family, churning out dish after dish each holiday and smiling all the while.
These days, all of my extended family pretty much stays home or adopts another family for the day. It didn’t help that my mom died of breast cancer last June.
Even though the gatherings had been sparse, she at least prepared a delicious meal each year and I had somewhere familiar to go. Truthfully, those feasts began to lose their fervor towards the end. Monotonous conversations, dim faces, and long pauses always reminded us that the grim reaper was sitting at the table with us. She had been battling the cancer for eleven years and as beautiful as she was, its physical effects eventually manifested.
I tried visiting other people’s houses for a couple of years. It’s awkward. If I can’t be loud, crazy Myshell, because someone’s relative may flip out, then I have to be shy, courteous Myshell. That’s just no fun. I prefer environments where everybody knows my name like “Cheers.” I’m not really into meeting new people. Pilot conversations are so boring. “How many siblings do you have?” “What do you do?” “What’s your sign?” “Where are you from?”
Bah! I want to be around people, who already know that I’m a dance teacher with a mild case of Tourette Syndrome, a five-year-old daughter, and a retarded sister. I want a location, where they know I can’t stand perfume or incense, because they’ll give me a headache for a week-and-a-half.
The year my mom died, a bunch of friends and I threw a “Thanks But No Thanks” dinner. It was fun. There was wine, laughter, games, and a heap of food. It was a lot of work, though. At nine months pregnant, I’m just looking to chill. Shoot, I’m happy to have a day off. I still cooked, though. The truth is I like my own candied yams the most. I don’t need to compete for the macaroni and cheese championship belt, because it’s already hanging in my closet. Hannibal will probably go off briefly to visit a family that he’s adopted. One of our favorite couples may also be coming over to hang out with us, or they may not. Either way, there’s a full spread here for my immediate family to enjoy. I’m thankful for them. I’m the mommy now — making memories for Mooch. 
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