Thanksgiving, Points and All
Finally catching my breath after working Saturday through Thursday (pretty much hit the ground running after last Friday) and attending my great-aunt's funeral today (this Friday).
Thanksgiving, overall, was way more fun than I expected. I also didn't expect the fallout that came in the days following, but more about that later.
I actually scored no points in Seraphic's Thanksgiving game by its standard rules; however, I still felt painfully aware that I was the only single (over 18 and under 50) at dinner.
Also, if the day before counts, I technically got a point because while shopping last Wednesday a 70-something gentleman who asked to look at the store sale flyer I was carrying proceeded to embark on a lengthy conversation that (a) I didn't have time for and (b) I did not want--and after knowing me all of five minutes, told me that I in fact HAD "met the right person" but "ran away from it."
Uh, who says that to a complete stranger?
Ooh! And if this one counts, I had to call the police at 1 a.m. to come break up a fight between a couple who were violently arguing in the vestibule for well over 20 minutes! (She left and apparently he would not let her back in, so he came downstairs to scream at her while she screamed at him.) Plus her car was running out front the whole time, and if I had to guess she was wayyyy too drunk to drive.
Anyway, getting back to the actual fairly pleasant dinner, the Broccoli and Mushroom Salad was a hit aand for some reason the turkey actually tasted good enough for me to have seconds. Most of the time the only way I eat turkey is at Subway with black olives and honey-mustard dressing. The kids had a good time and I spent some good Auntie-Niece time doing our Polaroid project. Niece really ran with it and also created a sign with the leftover posterboard.
|The Two Youngest Nephews got artsy, too!|
Oh, and we also had an impromptu sing-along at the piano when my uncle's girlfriend (who has her own band and everything--cool chick!) played and we all sang "Don't Stop Believin'."
I remember thinking it was odd that My Maiden Aunt didn't join in. I was on the verge of not caring though, because already she'd been short with me after I'd declined her invitation to join her carol-singing group, because I said I was unable to commit to practicing. (Or, you know, spending time in her special form of Hell on Earth.) Not to mention I'd had enough of her rapid-fire lectures at the dinner table. It's just that I don't like being told how to listen to her stories. I mean, we love her stories, but if we're not allowed to utter a single word or make any noise of reaction until she deems herself finished, then you've lost me. It's like a performance to her. She's in her 50s but still behaves like a child in need of attention.
Including the hissy fit I received via email when I innocently made up an album of our photos and shared it with those who attended dinner. Apparently she did not any of the photos of herself (all three--and I already had taken out an additional one) and told me to delete them. They were individual shots we'd used for our project--Niece had taken them, and now I wonder if she even remembers she was joking around with Niece, that she had blinked during the first photo, and that one of them had her with her hands propping open her eyes jokingly. I also wonder if she understood that this was not a public album and that only people with the invite link could view it. Her world is her beloved facebook. (No way we're friends when I set up my page. She'd be trying to control it left and right.)
I replied asking her to reconsider, because I thought they were nice and it was a memento that she was there.
Instead of a reply to that email, I got a second reply to the original email--so I'm assuming she checked up on me--and it was very pointed, ignored my response, and talked down to me.
It made me sad, both reading her message and having to change my album. (Keeping the originals on my hard drive as is my right.) We used to have fun doing aunt/niece things and getting together with my sibs and cousins to help her pick out and decorate her Christmas tree. Those are distant memories and I hate feeling as if I can't even mention them to her in a fond "Remember when?" kind of way. She'd take a dump all over them just like she did my album and my feelings.
So I removed the photos from my album and emailed back saying it was done. No other words. Why open myself up to anything further?
About three minutes ago, she emailed a thank-you, from her iPhone.
With an affectionate epithet.
Gonna delete that, too, and move forward with the good memories.