thankful it's over

Listen, I’m all about Thanksgiving. It happens to be my favorite meal of the year. But I’m over it. And you all should be too. Look at what it’s DOING to us. Mamie is in London listening to Wordsworth in a private car and staring at Seamus Heaney’s portrait. Tom is texting me pictures of crab and shrimp baskets from Florida and looking for Alice Sebold’s email address and sleeping in a room full of lighthouses and the bar closest to him is called The Pickled Parrot. A dozen of you are in places which do not support internet, which leads to only one rational conclusion: that you’re all huddled, dressed in various metals, in a field in Arkansas. Jarv wrote in Currents that when he is ‘pimped out’ in Wilmington, he is as a peacock among chickens.

And here at the home front, we have too much TIME on our hands, so the kids are unwittingly turning me into a vegetarian. See, first there was the whole “Mary had a little LAMB” bit, which song they now adapt to suit the meal. When I bring out a dish containing beef, they bellow: “Mary had a little COW, little COW.” But now, when we’re eating turkey for the third day in a row, Kan has taped up in the dining room a large drawing of a turkey. On it, is a story. It’s quite crafty really, being written in 1st person from the perspective of the turkey. The cheerful little narrative is called: “Why You Shouldn’t Eat Me.” The storyline goes something like this: Because I am a sick turkey. I met a fox in a field and he sneezed on me and I caught a terrible cold and I cannot stop coughing, so remember when you want to eat me that I am a sick turkey.

I’m not squeamish by any means, but it’s unnerving to stare at that during dinner. Even if I am convinced the sick turkey is actually Simona, who’s been sick for the last week. Also, Aaron likes to discuss the anatomy of his meal in full detail. “Hannah, is this the turkey’s BACK MUSCLE? Are we eating its MUSCLES?” Something v. savage in the way they take pleasure in eating animal. “Hannah, did this once have a heart??”

All of this resulted in me needing fresh air and escape at about 430 yesterday afternoon. But since it was 15 degrees outside, we took our fresh air at the mall. Whatever, I know it’s my fault, but when faced with Insufferable Boredom and children who say “what now” every two seconds, it seemed like the right thing to do. Wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Only, I made the mistake of letting the kids watch Mary Poppins earlier in the day and so when we went through the mall, they skipped and sang all the songs from the movie at the top of their lungs. In line at Starbucks: “Chim-chimney chim-chim chim-chim-cheree, a sweep is as lucky, as lucky can be!” In Baby Gap trilling: “A spooooonful of sugar helps the medicine go down, medicine go dowwwown, medicine go down!” We looked like we were on our way to a soup kitchen to feed the hungry, esp. with the way we were pausing every now and then for hugs and kisses and declarations of undying love.

Instead, of course, I was on my way to making poor and befuddled decisions. Did I tell you about the coat I bought Kan? That it’s floor-length and lined in plush faux-fur and that this coat, it’s reversible? So she’s been trailing round town looking like a mini Run DMC. So last night, I needed to buy them gloves. Aaron always comes out well—looking like a little JCrew model. But with Kan, things keep going wrong. Let’s just say that she now has cherry red gloves with cuffs of more faux-leopard.

I’m fucking with the template. And considering going to see that Enchanted movie, which looks terrifying--but it's kid-friendly and Mamie's not here, none of you are here, to stop me. And Ashley, you're totally enabling by coming along so happily! Because you have to admit, even the reviews are suspicious, along the lines of "Disney has made another smart, profitable movie." I can’t be more clear: COME HOME NOW. All of you. Thanks.