A lesson in: Gorging

It’s that time of year where I start getting my holiday on… I am a big, big fan of Thanksgiving food. Lemme tell you about it.

Well, you start with turkey. I personally have nothing to do with the turkey. Not only is it approximately $400 a pound, it is also, as I have described over the years, a dry yet greasy tasteless bird. With that being said, it is nonetheless essential to the holiday. I demand that it be present, even in its current Yablonski format of a turkey, stuffed with a duck, stuffed with a chicken, stuffed with sausage. (a turducken, they call it, completely dissing the sausage). I have had turkey over the years that was okay, but still nothing to write home about. I eat ham.

I also skip things with green beans and things that look nasty, like cranberry sauce. I save my somewhat limited intestinal capacity for important things, like ham and sweet potatoes and rolls and dessert of every kind. I can’t tell you how many times over the years I have been just getting started, and the ol’ gut says, “Whoa… back it up, sister!” This is alarming on at least two fronts… one, that my stomach can speak, and two, that I have to stop eating or risk intestinal rupture and eventually, death.

Lucky for me, my mother-in-law is no patriot, and does not celebrate American Imperialist holidays. She stills tries to get a holiday out of it by having a party on the weekend, with enchiladas. I know.

So, I only have two Thanksgiving feasts, the Yablonskis and the Clarks, on Richy’s dad’s side. I can usually manage two smorgasbords, although it makes the rest of the year awfully disappointing.

This year, I live in a state where it is very, very cold already. Just imagine the North Pole. Yep, like that. So my brain and psyche and what-not are in a state of panic at it already being Christmas weather, (since the two cold days of the year in Texas are typically around ol’ St Nick’s Day,) without having first gone through the rite of Thanksgiving. “What about the FOOD?” my brain is wailing. It’s like a funhouse around here with all these talking organs and muscles.

We will be driving to Texas next week to celebrate. Laissez les bons temps rouler.