Just as we are headed out the door to Thanksgiving, we get a call. The power is out at the grandparent’s house.
There is no choice, clearly. Sacrifices must be made. Should we hold Thanksgiving at our house?
Hell no. We load the generator into the back of the truck.
We have arrived! Kevin has set up the generator. I brought a massive charcuterie plate. Kevin’s oldest has brought a large bottle of spiced rum, which he announced that he traded a Magic card for.
It was a Boseiju Who Endures, for anyone who is curious.
Tragically, lack of power means we cannot watch the dog show! Anyone got any good livetweet threads?
Conversation has turned to whether a particular relative is showing signs of dementia or simply does not understand that voice to text messages have to be edited before sending.
“He once texted me “I’m at your house, feeding your dog no Henry no down no no bad dog down” so I kinda think it’s the voice to text.”
Power is back! Victory! Kevin and his father and his oldest conducted the time-honored tradition of standing around the generator going “Welp, that’s your problem right there…”
I just overheard what sounded like a grim story—“and they plugged it in and all three of them crawled to the attic and died!”
I assumed that this was a terrible tale of carbon monoxide poisoning until she explained that it was slugs in the AC unit.
Kevin’s oldest is relaying the saga of his trip to Rome, and all the saint relics he encountered. “I was within three meters of St. Peter’s actual bones!”
“Ostensibly,” I say, not quite under my breath.
KEVIN’S MOM: I want to take one of those tours where they see the orcas and they know them all by name!
KEVIN: With the dorsal fins standing straight up! And at Seaworld the fins flop over, and it’s because of stress!
ME: I AM STILL SO MAD THEY LIED AND SAID IT WAS AGE
KEVIN’S MOM: I dunno, at my age, my dorsal fin doesn’t always stand up straight either.
ME: They make a pill for that. A small blue one.
COUSIN: My neighbor has converted to veganism for his girlfriend. I asked if he wanted to be a vegan and he said “I can’t marry her without it.”
ME: You know, in Judaism they just stab you slightly in the penis.
SHEP: You also have to give up pork!
ME: Vegans also give up pork!
Oh good, apparently they were trying to move mulch with a shovel.
COUSIN: Poor babies. I told them to get a pitchfork. I am spreading the gospel of the pitchfork. And loaned them my good wheelbarrow.
Sheep has just forced me to watch a video of Lorne Greene doing a spoken word song called “Ringo” and is demanding to know if I ship it.
KEVIN’S MOM: I did this quilt with the hedgehog fabric…
KEVIN’s DAD: You made that?
KM: Not the fabric, no.
ME: You haven’t taken up screenprinting fabric yet?
KM: I AM TRYING NOT TO
ME: Or batik!
SHEP: Do you want to learn? Because I can teach you—
KM: GET THEE BEHIND ME SATAN
Conversation wanders and I end up telling the tale of how I had to have my room moved one time because the people in the next room were going at it like bunnies.
ONE OF KEVIN’S SONS: But why would you do THAT at 5 in the afternoon?
ME: YOUR VIRGINITY IS NOTED*
*Kevin’s sons will remain virgins until they grow genitalia at the age thirty AND YOU WILL NOT CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE please it’s the only way I can cope emotionally
The conversation runs to tequila, the good, the bad, the ugly.
ME: No! No, you do not understand! Good tequila is like desert sunlight on your tongue. Bad tequila is like being punched in the face in Tijuana.
KEVIN’S SON: I’ve never done that.
SHEP: I have!
ME: Hang on, I don’t know this story…
SHEP: What? I was in the Navy! That’s 90% of it! I had to help defend the honor of the service!
ME: The other 10% is important! Were you fighting a member of another service or a local?
SHEP: Bold of you to assume I remember…
One of Kevin’s sons in recounting a tale of becoming drunk and vomiting.
KS: Well, it was on my grandmother’s carpet so I had to steam clean it before she saw it.
FAMILY: YOU STEAM-CLEANED YOUR OWN DRUNK MESS?!
ME: *weeping gently* You bring me so much hope…
ME: Look, the difference between good tequila and bad tequila—
FAMILY: Like between vodka and rum?
FAMILY: Good vodka and moonshine?
FAMILY: That time I—
ME: JESUS CHRIST NO THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN BAD TEQUILA AND GOOD IS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN GETTING KICKED IN THE NUTS AND GETTING A BLOWJOB
…and that is why I should not drink at Thanksgiving.
ME: (attempting to act normal) This is a lovely sugar bowl!
MOTHER-IN-LAW: I got it from a women-only catalog.
COUSIN: Why you gotta bring gender into it?
ME: It’s a very nice sugar bowl but I don’t think it’ll fit in my vagina.
KEVIN: I remember the protestors for Last Temptation of Christ.
ME: Thats not the musical.
KEVIN: No, but the music is great.
ME: WHY HAS NO ONE DONE THE LAST TEMPTATION OF JESUS CHRIST, SUPERSTAR
Thanksgiving is concluded! Turkey has been et! Leftovers have been exchanged!