Gobble, Gobble

A few weeks ago I was forced to endure an hour long Uber ride to the sound of Christmas tunes.  I repeat, AN HOUR.  Of all the Ubers in Los Angeles, of course I would end up in the one who is all too excited to get his joy to the world on.  Many of you, I’m sure, would have been elated.  Not this girl.  Too soon.  Christmas music is the soundtrack to my version of hell.  We haven’t even celebrated our annual tradition of thievery and backstabbing yet.  Can you give it a sec?!  I LOVE Christmas but get in line and wait your turn.  How on earth did you hand out Halloween candy with the glow of lights wrapped around an evergreen at your back?  How do you live with yourself?

Of course, as many of you know, I grew up in a house that did the exact opposite.  Santa Claus brought our Christmas tree.  Yeah, wrap your heads around that one.  So to all you parents out there who think you’re exhausted on Christmas Day, you aren’t.  My parents were.  We also left our tree up until the Superbowl so I suppose to each their own.  As far as Thanksgiving traditions, mine mostly involve copious amounts of Jameson and taking advantage of the one day a year overeating mac n cheese and mashed potatoes is encouraged.  This typically leads to me drunk dialing #lakme at some point, cause that’s what I do.  Throw in some turkey and that pretty much sums up my day.

When I moved to Chicago after college, Thanksgiving was the biggest day of the year at the restaurant where I worked.  I had to say goodbye to the days at home with my family.  Every year I took care of a group of men who insisted on calling me Jennifer Aniston, which was the highlight of my day.  Maybe even year.   I always thought, I don’t know what kind of beer goggles or eye disease you have but THANK YOU, all of my dreams have come true, where is my husband?!  And for the record, I am aware our only similarities are our hair and skin color, but who am I to tell someone what they think is wrong?  Also, when someone says you look like Jennifer Aniston, you take that and you hold it and let all those years of self criticism melt away because in that moment you are winning at life.   So if you happen to see anyone working today, give them a hug or a compliment or a thank you because working on national holidays while everyone else gets to be with loved ones is a super kick in the camel toe.  In fact, there was one year I remember coming home and eating instant mashed potatoes out of the pot by myself.  I was a living, breathing Hallmark movie.  All I needed was a bay window, a half moon and some rain to complete the picture.

One of my best friends, her husband and I will be celebrating our 10th Thanksgiving together.  They host a marvelous soiree, let me tell you.  For starters, he’s a chef and sometimes, even the cops show up.  It’s a pretty big deal.  When you aren’t with your family, you find a family of your own.  People that keep you sane, hold you together and are forever open armed.  People that know you better than you know yourself at times.  I am so beyond grateful for these people being that I haven’t lived at home since the summer before my senior year of college.  Back when I still chatted with people on AIM and texting people was a real situation because you had to press 7 four times if you needed an S.  It is sentences such as this that truly put my age into perspective.  Pass the alcohol please.

I hope you are surrounded by love.  If you’re one of those people who likes baby food inside of a crust, also known as pumpkin pie, I hope you get your fill.  Please take mine.  I hope you’re happy.  I hope you can look around the room and be grateful.  Thank you to everyone who puts up with me on a consistent basis.  Your patience and temperance for absolute insanity knows no bounds.  Thank you Passionflix, for existing.  (It’s like Netflix, but only romance!)  Thank you everyone who lives in LA for leaving and making traffic semi-bearable.  Thank you for my health, which hasn’t been doing so awesome.  I’m finally past the worst of it.  I am not even joking when I say if you can swallow your own spit without crying, be the most grateful.  There are things in this life we do and don’t even realize how lucky we are until the ability is taken away from us.  Thank you, each and every one of you, for taking the time to read this.  Big shout out to those who read this on a weekly basis.  Who tell their friends to read it.  Who send me little notes of encouragement.  Who repost it.  Who support me for no other reason than the sake of doing so.  It fills my heart with all kinds of celebratory confetti.  Love to all.  Eat, drink, c’est la vie.

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