Turkey vs. Me
Why do I not like Thanksgiving? Don't I have plenty to be thankful for? A tight family (as in close, not just cool [as in fun, easy to get along with, not the temperature]), a great group of friends, an okay job, a car that runs, a car that seldom runs, blah, blah, blah.
But I can get down to the nitty, gritty things that I can be thankful for. I have a roof over my head, rent that's dirt cheap in a nice neighborhood, clothes keeping me warm, sweet, warm chocolate chip cookies in my belly, the ability to walk, a full head of hair, a voice, no major diseases (yet), and two hands with ten, count them, TEN fingers so I can type this on my computer that has internet access that sits next to a shelf of books, which I can read thanks to me being literate and having two working eyes, which is next to a stereo system to listen, with good working ears, to my good music (what you think I'd have bad music?). I can go on, if you doubt that I can.
And when I think that there are people out there that don't have some or all of these things, it reminds me how thankful I should always be. I am fortunate. I may complain about the mentally deficient president or whine that I haven't been happy for a great while. But I got more positives in my life than many people.
So I sit down with my family, eat up that dry white meat that my grandmother and mother were kind enough to prepare, and I complain in the back of my head-Why can't there be steak?
The wine helps wash the bird down. Maybe, similar to when I was a kid, I should take it like medicine, just cut it into smaller pieces and stuff it in the mashed potatos and eat it that way. Mmmmmmmm, mashed potatos. Or just discretely spit it out into my napkin as I "wipe my mouth." But no, cloth napkins.
It doesn't help though. Thanksgiving ruined turkey a long time ago. For almost a month, Thanksgiving Day would conspire with leftovers to keep me drowsy in classes and nauseated when I opened a paper bag lunch. It's no good.
Of course, I keep this all to myself. I sit there, molars mincing, mashing that meat away, as I wonder if UPS delivers turkey meat warm and fresh to those unfortunate in Africa. Because that's where all the hungry people are, we're told. I pretend I'm so thankful for the bird. I even get seconds to show how grateful I am on this day of thanks, seconds made up of mashed potatos blanketing meat. I smile and show how appreciative I am. I don't mention what I'm hiding to anyone. For I am a grateful, thankful human being.
Then, days later, I post on my blog.
But I can get down to the nitty, gritty things that I can be thankful for. I have a roof over my head, rent that's dirt cheap in a nice neighborhood, clothes keeping me warm, sweet, warm chocolate chip cookies in my belly, the ability to walk, a full head of hair, a voice, no major diseases (yet), and two hands with ten, count them, TEN fingers so I can type this on my computer that has internet access that sits next to a shelf of books, which I can read thanks to me being literate and having two working eyes, which is next to a stereo system to listen, with good working ears, to my good music (what you think I'd have bad music?). I can go on, if you doubt that I can.
And when I think that there are people out there that don't have some or all of these things, it reminds me how thankful I should always be. I am fortunate. I may complain about the mentally deficient president or whine that I haven't been happy for a great while. But I got more positives in my life than many people.
So I sit down with my family, eat up that dry white meat that my grandmother and mother were kind enough to prepare, and I complain in the back of my head-Why can't there be steak?
The wine helps wash the bird down. Maybe, similar to when I was a kid, I should take it like medicine, just cut it into smaller pieces and stuff it in the mashed potatos and eat it that way. Mmmmmmmm, mashed potatos. Or just discretely spit it out into my napkin as I "wipe my mouth." But no, cloth napkins.
It doesn't help though. Thanksgiving ruined turkey a long time ago. For almost a month, Thanksgiving Day would conspire with leftovers to keep me drowsy in classes and nauseated when I opened a paper bag lunch. It's no good.
Of course, I keep this all to myself. I sit there, molars mincing, mashing that meat away, as I wonder if UPS delivers turkey meat warm and fresh to those unfortunate in Africa. Because that's where all the hungry people are, we're told. I pretend I'm so thankful for the bird. I even get seconds to show how grateful I am on this day of thanks, seconds made up of mashed potatos blanketing meat. I smile and show how appreciative I am. I don't mention what I'm hiding to anyone. For I am a grateful, thankful human being.
Then, days later, I post on my blog.
posted by matty at 10:53 PM
1 Comments:
Perhaps tofurkey is more your speed.
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