21 November 2006

why i like to be out of town on thanksgiving


Every year on thanksgiving, my family dresses up as pilgrims. There's a story to it, of course, but that doesn't make it any more acceptable. Suffice it to say that every year more and more people from the church (usually people of the nerdier persuasion) wear the black and white costumes. This has been happening for 4-5 years now.

The first year, I got lucky - I wasn't there. But since then, I do my duty and wear that infernal dress, apron, bonnet and collar piece. And braid my hair in double braids..... I am such a dork.

Even boyfriends (and my husband) have been sucked into this sick tradition. Heck, my brother-in-law wore a pilgrim costume last year and made a video out of it. Everyone thinks this tradition is SO COOL. Except me. I hate it. I loathe it. Now, I'm not above wearing 'different' clothes, or celebrating etc... But pilgrim costumes? No thanks.

My mom makes all the costumes from a pattern she has made herself. Every dress, collar piece, bonnet, apron and other stupid accoutrement has lovingly been made by her own hand.

The problem is that when I tell my mom I really don't want to do it (I mean, I'm 25, she doesn't really have a say about what I do) , she gives me this ...... look. Kind of like "Why would you break my heart like that?" mixed with "How did I ever give birth to YOU?" mixed with "You will shut up and wear this costume" mixed, finally, with "If you don't wear this costume I will have a mental breakdown and you will bear the brunt of it." And inevitably, I am shamed into wearing the dreaded garb - if only to stave off my mother's depression and disappointment in me for just one more year.

It actually kind of makes me hate thanksgiving.....

PS. That picture is my dorky husband. And probably the back end of my mom.

08 November 2006

the things that really count

Previously; after the baby shower on Saturday:

Aunt C.: "Would you like the rest of this punch?"
Me: "Sure. Here's a pitcher, you can just throw it in the fridge."

Last night, as we were preparing to sit down to watch Law & Order reruns:

Husband (pulling out a large pitcher of punch from the fridge): "What's this?"
Me: "Oh, Aunt C. left that for us. It's the leftover punch from the baby shower."
BEAT
Husband: "This is just begging to be mixed with alcohol!"