Thanksgiving
You've been waiting, what, an eternity for this post?I apologize. By way of explanation, all I can offer is this: I've been really effing busy.
Monday was my birthday. I'm 35 now, so...that's all I have to say about that.
Thanksgiving was a treat. And I mean that with the maximum allowable amount of sarcasm.
Let's see, Bunny Boop was sick on Wednesday before Thanksgiving, pukey and what not, requiring me to telecommute from home that day.
She got better in time for us to travel on Thursday morning, but by the time we got back home a few hours later, the husband was sick. He was better by mid-day on Friday, but by Friday afternoon, I had the creeping crud. Yeehaw. So, it was a holiday of puke buckets for us.
Anyway, I've started my holiday baking and am nearly done with my shopping, so things are looking up.
None of that, however, is the primary reason for this post.
I have a story that needs sharing. I've been sitting on it until I could find time to post, and here it is.
As you may have gleaned from my meandering posts over the years, I am something of a baker.
I bake. I'm good at it. People exclaim over my goodies!
So, six weeks ahead of Thanksgiving, I offered to make pies for the dinner in the rented hall that is my in-laws traditional holiday bonanza. I was rebuffed. Not in a mean way, just in the, well...you'll have to call so and so and get it approved.
Look, I'm not looking for a mortgage here or a billion dollar bailout, so I let it slide. If they don't want my pies, fine.
Anyway, five weeks later, we are called and informed that we've been tasked with the veggie tray. I wanted to make pies, and now I get to buy prewashed veggies and open a jar of pickles and a can of olives. Keeping up?
Again, whatever, right?
But, we arrive first at the hall on Thanksgiving and I am afforded a very good view of the entry of everyone else arriving. Every woman who arrives brings a dessert. Every. Single. One. And that should tell you something, considering they rent a hall.
But, the icing on this figurative cake came when my sister-in-law showed up with a half-eaten, left-over cake.
Maybe they already had the dessert table covered when I called six weeks ahead (knowing these people, however I doubt it. I suspect that they hadn't thought that far ahead at that time). But, knowing they turned down my pies only to agree to her leftover half-eaten cake REALLY pissed me off.
I'm not going to be baking for these people again any time soon.
Am I over reacting? Possibly. But I also know these people. I suspect they just didn't want me showing everybody else up.
Okay, I'm done being bitchy for a moment.
