This Thanksgiving we spent the afternoon with dad's side of the family in Kingsville. I know we're always in store for a good time when we head even farther south in Texas to spend time with the good ol' paternal familia.
The visit started off interesting with my disappointing attempt at being nurturing and motherly as my mom encouraged (forced) me to hold my cousin's baby who was a mere 9 days old. I mean, I immediately loved that little baby, but I loved her enough to want to protect her from the discomfort of being in trapped in my bony arms. The conversation quickly turned to my cousin telling me, "You better start practicing. Your time is running out!" Ehhhhhh...no. I've still got time. Plus..maybe I'll adopt. I'll adopt a baby who is already in their toddler years and is not as delicate as a frail bird. I held the baby for a few minutes, then passed her back to my mom who couldn't stop fawning over her the rest of the day. She deserved someone like my mom. I went to look for the bigger kids. And the food.
A couple of hours later (and a lot of sitting around watching football and making chit chat while we all secretly wished we were eating), it was time to eat. I thought I would try my hand at being motherly again and offered to help my grandma set up the food. "Here," she advised (I was sure she was going to give me a big task like getting the rolls out of the oven, stirring the gravy, something manageable but still important), "take this to the other room." She handed me a styrofoam plate with a cylinder of jellied cranberry balancing on it. Both my grandma and I agreed that we could eat the whole helping of cranberry out of the can if our lives depended on it...or if no one was watching. I walked the cranberry outside to the party room. Yes, party room. We'll come to that in a minute. The cranberry was like congealed liquid gold on a plate. It was wobbling all over the place...but I cradled it and kept it safe. Probably safer than I held that tiny baby. Once I got to the party room, it was then that I noticed that 3 other cans of cranberry had already been opened. Not sure what else we really ate at Thanksgiving, but one thing I am sure of is the fact that we had at least 4 lbs. of the 90 cent delicatessen.
The party room. That is a whole other story. It's like Tony Romo (or some other Dallas Cowboys player who is actually good) threw up in there. Cowboys posters covered the walls, tiny Dallas Cowboys helmets sat on random window sills and on any available counter space, and one of my personal favorites, a Dallas Cowboys flag declaring, "America's Team." I wonder what other American citizens would say about that. Like perhaps if we asked the New England PATRIOTS, who's colors are red, white, and blue. Think they think of Tony and the rest of his fumbling teammates as the football team of the U.S.? I think not. I was honestly afraid to watch the Cowboys vs. Redskins game in that party room. I mean, I had heard stories of my uncle being completely obsessed with the Cowboys (which I had inferred from the Dallas Cowboys matching bath and toilet rugs in the bathroom), but I didn't want to be present for a meltdown that would occur when the Cowboys inevitably failed. McKayla was impressed when an ACTUAL Dallas Cowboys team member showed up to join us for Thanksgiving lunch and to watch the game. At least...I think he was a team member. I knew he wasn't part of the family because I had never seen him before and he kept saying things like "We need to get it together," or "Our fans are very fickle." Using those possessive pronouns can really transform someone! As I was analyzing this phenomenon, I noticed my uncle pulling down the ladder to head up into the attic. 'Is there another level to this party? Please, take me with you!' He looked around for a little bit and came out with another pile of styrofoam food trays. Duh. Silly me! When in doubt and you need more kitchen supplies...just head up to the attic.
A small Thanksgiving miracle occurred during the Cowboys game when I heard my cousin ask (aloud), "What is a punt?" Yes! I was no longer the only one who didn't know anything about football. Just a few minutes before, I had asked V how the Cowboys could only have 3 points and she gave me the DS (Death Stare in case you forgot) as she explained how kicking only a field goal at the beginning of the game and not scoring any other points made this a possibility. It's always a good Thanksgiving when family members find different ways to poke fun of one another; especially when we are all together stuffing our faces while doing it. Needless to say, the Cowboys lost, we had our gluttonous fill of starched sides and deserts, and as we were saying our goodbyes before we left, I'm pretty sure I saw my uncle heading up into the second level of the party room to wallow in sorrow at the demise of Team 'Merica.
