In an earlier post, I talked about how the Thanksgiving gatherings in my family can get a little out of hand. And everyone (or at least most people) can share similar stories: family feuds around the table, disputes over who is preparing the sweet potatoes, disappearing cranberry bread, off-color dinner conversation. But this weekend I went home to see my family for a little pre-Turkey Day bonding, and I realized I might have been a little hasty in my judgment of the holiday.
After all, my family is pretty freakin cool.
My presentation of the holiday as a fiasco that required me to hunker down secretly on the back porch with a bootlegged six pack and a bag of ice was unfair. The truth is, I thrive on what I like to call "family insanity"; that is, the circus that ensues when my large extended family (my mom is one of 7 kids) descends upon my parents' house for a weekend of food, fun, and free-for-all. I love nothing more than having everyone I care about stuffed into one house, eating and laughing and making fun of one another. It's my favorite type of party. I even enjoy the good-natured feuding over the obituaries and the second amendment.
My sense of humor is such that I find all that stuff hilarious, but sometimes I don't realize in the retelling that that doesn't constitute someone else's idea of a good time. I do cherish my family holiday. True, turkey doesn't do it for me. I'm much more a fan of Christmas and my grandma's lasagna. And no, November doesn't thrill me either. But having everyone all together, kids charging through the house, dogs running under feet, grandparents competing over one another to be heard?
Yeah. That is something to be thankful for.
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