i hate fine china.

So it's the holidays again. I guess. Not yet, but I've been doing enough festive stuff that I feel like I'm living three Christmas's over and over and over. At work, we're decorating trees. At home, mom is yelling at dad about grandpa and thanksgiving dinner. A few weeks ago, she said that she wanted to skip thanksgiving this year and go for a hike. She didn't want a turkey, she just wanted to go somewhere for the day. Sounds nice, but I haven't been raising turkeys for nine months not to eat one nor to celebrate, quite possibly my favorite holiday. So after listening to Jason's stories about three turkeys, a million cousins and uncles with kids, his mother baking and cooking and laughing and drinking all day, and his grandmother getting sauced up and telling crazy stories about homeland Austria... I think that sounds a little bit better than my mom freaking out the whole holiday, eating off of china that no one wants to wash, and my grandma saying something really funny that my mom gets totally offended by and storms out.

last thanksgiving was almost classic. Preston watched the killing of Doug the turkey the night before. He was supposed to take pictures. I don't know why I thought that was a good idea. But it was Jason's first time killing anything and he didn't tie the rope very tight and while Doug was being bled out, flopping around bleeding, he fell into the creek, Jason jumped in after him, and he was still flopping so he took a log and smashed his head off. Not exactly pretty, but once the blood was washed off and we had a pretty darn nice looking bird being cleaned in the sink, we all could laugh about it. All but preston and mom did not laugh.
It was the most awkward dinner ever. But then again, dad broke open a little bit of wine and we got a little giggly. Mom didn't because she didn't want grandpa to think that she was a bit of a drinker, so she just had that sour look on her face as she tried to make conversation without stating the elephant in the room... that no one wanted to eat Doug. And then Jason, dad and I just started calling him Doug and saying "Doug is delicious" and "please pass the Doug" and I'm not sure why I love this story so much or why I feel the need to tell it a million times, but it's funny to me.

In an ideal world, I'd love to have thanksgiving with all the family, even my late uncle's wife and step kids and their kids and cook and laugh and drink and make fun of grandma and watch her laugh and eat off of paper plates and then take a nap and build a fire and play games and invite all my friends who have thanksgiving so far away. I'd eat another doug or two and stuff him with home grown garlic and onions and have cranberry sauce even though I never actually like it but I try it anyway and mashed potatoes that take a lot longer to make then they do to eat.

I think the holidays are beautiful and I will try to stay positive. All I know is this holiday, I am going to be "Jason's girlfriend" and play in his mother's awesome big kitchen, cooking for a million people that I don't know but who are actually grateful. And I hope to god we don't eat off of china.