Anthony Diaz (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
saavedra77) wrote2005-11-25 03:50 pm
saavedra77) wrote2005-11-25 03:50 pm
Thanksgiving Gothic
While I was sleeping in, yesterday morning, Morpheus prepared me for a day of joyously conspicuous (and thankful) consumption with a little taste of American Gothic:
In the dream, I'm maybe 6 years old, it's autumn in the country, with fields of corn stubble alongside the road and brown leaves blowing around. I'm riding in my grandfather's rusty Ford pickup truck, flanked by both maternal grandparents, and they've given me a very specific task in preparation for the Thanksgiving feast:
To get the turkey drunk.
So, I'm holding the squirming bird, giving it sips of whiskey in paper cups.
It eventually settles down, some, and--something else to be thankful for!--I wake up before having to surrender the feathery inebriate to its inevitable fate ...
Whew! Am I ever glad I grew up and moved to the city!
Jen picked me up around noon for Thanksgiving at her sister-in-law's parents' house.
I brought the wine.
On the ride over to Renton, she gave me the lowdown on the whole family: she warned me that the women in her sister-in-law's family reminded her of The Stepford Wives, the sister-in-law in particular was kinda uptight, Dad was a big dork who talked too much, etc.
Based on these last-minute warnings, I found myself expecting that this day might get kinda awkward.
So imagine my surpise when, on arrival, Mom turned a conversation about Raspberry Fluff into a joke about "Fluffers" ... (Maybe she heard that I was from Capitol Hill and overinterpreted, slightly?)
In fact, Jen's in-laws turned out to be some of the least uptight suburbanites I've met in a long while.
The rest of the day consisted of--what else?--"eating ourselves into a coma" (as someone on my flist recently put it). We actually had a great time.
In the dream, I'm maybe 6 years old, it's autumn in the country, with fields of corn stubble alongside the road and brown leaves blowing around. I'm riding in my grandfather's rusty Ford pickup truck, flanked by both maternal grandparents, and they've given me a very specific task in preparation for the Thanksgiving feast:
To get the turkey drunk.
So, I'm holding the squirming bird, giving it sips of whiskey in paper cups.
It eventually settles down, some, and--something else to be thankful for!--I wake up before having to surrender the feathery inebriate to its inevitable fate ...
Whew! Am I ever glad I grew up and moved to the city!
Jen picked me up around noon for Thanksgiving at her sister-in-law's parents' house.
I brought the wine.
On the ride over to Renton, she gave me the lowdown on the whole family: she warned me that the women in her sister-in-law's family reminded her of The Stepford Wives, the sister-in-law in particular was kinda uptight, Dad was a big dork who talked too much, etc.
Based on these last-minute warnings, I found myself expecting that this day might get kinda awkward.
So imagine my surpise when, on arrival, Mom turned a conversation about Raspberry Fluff into a joke about "Fluffers" ... (Maybe she heard that I was from Capitol Hill and overinterpreted, slightly?)
In fact, Jen's in-laws turned out to be some of the least uptight suburbanites I've met in a long while.
The rest of the day consisted of--what else?--"eating ourselves into a coma" (as someone on my flist recently put it). We actually had a great time.