you are viewing archives from 2004

a very slack thanksgiving

My family doesn’t have many Thanksgiving traditions. Sure, there’s the Get-Up-Early-and-Knock-Around-the-Kitchen-To-Aggravate-Mom, the Lazing-in-Front-of-the-TV-While-Older SlackBrother J.-Gnaws-On-Turkey-Necks stand-by, and the classic Is-Dinner-Ready-Yet?-It’s-Ready-When-I-Goddamn-Well-Say-It-Is. My entire Thanksgiving contribution is that I make the crescent rolls; popping open the carton with a soup spoon and rolling those little suckers diagonally and finally, making sure they fit on one baking sheet as that’s all we’ve got room for in the oven, well, that’s why they bring in me, the Big Gun. I’m the final tag out while my mother does the 2,947 other things that are needed to do and then, voila! Dinner is served to a bunch of Bargiels in their pajamas sitting at a table with the cloth napkins and the nice dishes and the crystal. When SlackDad asks what we’re thankful for, we recite our individual parts of the Thanksgiving Blessing:

SlackMistress: I’m thankful that I wasn’t on the plane when Lynyrd Skynyrd went down.

Younger SlackBrother j.: I’m thankful that I’m not stranded on an island surrounded by a man-eating shark.

Older SlackBrother J.: I’m thankful that I’m not Rick James’ sex slave.

This ritual incantation was born a Thanksgiving about six years ago, when the morning TV watching portion was a triple feature consisting of Behind the Music: Lynyrd Skynyrd, Jaws: The Revenge , and some sort of Where are They Now? Rick James. While the toast was not an immediate favorite of SlackDad’s, it somehow became part of the Slack Family Lexicon, and is recited every Thanksgiving without fail.

But this year, this year would be different. This year, instead of staying in town with my family (SlackMom and SlackDad flew in to see SlackNiece), A. and I hopped in his adorable little car and drove the 407.43 miles to spend Thanksgiving with his family.

There’s always something weird about celebrating a holiday with a family that’s not yours. It’s like watching a movie from your childhood, but the end is slightly different than what you remember.

The first issue, as always, was How to Look Cute and Refreshed After Getting Up at Six AM and Spending Five and a Half Hours in a Car. It didn’t help that we stopped in lovely downtown Blythe for a quick bite, eschewing the Jack in the Box because there was a thirty minute wait for food (and people were waiting) and heading over to the Carl’s Jr. only to discover that the Ladies’ Room didn’t have a mirror. After seeing the citizens of Blythe I could see why.

But I was still paranoid of having bits of my half-eaten Sourdough Bacon Burger residing between the brackets of my front teeth and spent the rest of the trip gnashing my teeth in front of the mirror.

You’ll be fine, A. said.

That’s easy for you to say, I responded. It's your family.

With the exception of our slight detour in Blythe, we made it to Scottsdale with nary a hitch. We were met personally in the driveway and immersed immediately in Thanksgiving smells (which, SlackMom, I should point out was Not Gas!). I hauled out the Pumpkin Vodka I had made for my hosts and was put to work mixing pumpkin martinis for all. After bartending duties were complete, I popped the cork on a bottle of champagne I had brought expressly for me to drink, and headed outside to tackle the Second Issue of the Day: Mingling.

The guest list included A.’s family: his mother, his father, his sister and her husband, and her husband’s parents. I’ve said before that I am terribly, terrifically shy. If I have to set out to impress someone, I’m more likely to trip over my own feet, rip the ass of my pants in the process so that all can witness that I’ve worn panties that read Tuesday when in reality it’s Thursday. However, with the addition of a wee bit of Social Lubricant (i.e. plenty of champagne) and a receptive audience, I managed to be on without being annoying.

(At least, I think I was. Did I mention I drank a lot of champagne?)

The plus was that everyone else was imbibing as much if not more than I was, so by the time we sat down to dinner, we were all pleasantly toasty. A’s dad read something about George Washington’s proclamation regarding the first Thanksgiving. We poured more drinks and made a toast. We passed dishes and oooohed and aaahhed at how positively delicious everything was. (It was!)

I leaned over to A. It’s weird not to be in my pajamas at the Thanksgiving table.

A.’s mom overheard me.

So, Nina, do you have any Thanksgiving traditions in your family?

And we come to the Third Issue: How Much to Share?

I thought for half a second.

Have you ever heard of of a band called Lynyrd Skynyrd?