on Thanksgiving Day we acknowledge our dependence

1. When was the last time you jetted away for the holidays? I've never, but prehaps this year. My parents are taking a foreign vacation for Christmas, so my plans are up in the air. Maybe I'll make that literal.
2. What is your fondest birthday memory? Hmm. I've lots of un-fond ones (the death of a pet as a child stands out; a spectacularly shitty gift for a milestone day was memorable; a terrible fight after a Cubs game followed by a completely silent train-ride home is the most recent), and not just too much to counter that. Maybe the 18th? I finally had the chance to get to know someone I'd admired from afar.
3. What names do you go by? just the given, and standard derivations thereof
4. What do you look forward to most in the next six weeks? watching some racing
5. Where is your least favorite place to be, and why? the dentist's office. I'm pretty sure that I'm being sexually harassed by my hygienist.
6. Have you ever had a scary stalker type? yup. It's been a few months but I seriously doubt that it'll ever really be over.
7. What is your favorite holiday tradition? Thanksgiving at the Cat-Beast's
8. What are two activities you do after eating Thanksgiving Dinner? watch football & flirt in the most low-key way possible...to no useful end
9. What did your family do for Thanksgiving when you were a kid? Do you still do it? If not, explain why. Thanksgiving was a BIG deal when I was a kid. My mom's side of the family would gather at my grandparents' house (~40 min. away) in the late morning. There would be totally insane quantities of the best food imaginable. Grandma would roast turkeys, and my mom's sisters and brother's family would all bring various dishes to go along. I can't remember ever trying anything that wasn't fantastic, and the house smelled completely ridiculous. The kids would play, the older kids would help out in the kitchen (upstairs) or the pantry (basement), slicing rolls or plating. The guys would do guy stuff, I guess. The women made the final food prep. We would eat early-afternoon. There would be people propped on every flat surface you could see, and we would all eat until we were stuffed beyond comfort. After the meal, some people would clean up, while some would go for a long walk in the woods (i.e. the men would take the kids out to keep us out of the cleaners' way and burn off some steam). When we were through with that, we would play games and eventually draw names for our Christmas gift exchange. Sometime in the early evening we would pull out the food again and have a cold supper, much smaller than the first meal but no less awesome. When we were full and quiet, we would spend another hour or so saying our goodbyes before heading back home. It was a long day, probably 12 or 14 hours there, but some of the best days I've ever had.
   My grandmother died when I was 16, and my grandfather a couple of years later. Since then, the family gets together as a whole only for weddings and funerals. My mom's generation seems to have lost the spirit of it since they lost my grandma; she was the one who tied the extended family together.
   That is part of why I don't "go home" for Thanksgiving. Another part: the year that my former spouse and I broke up, my parents were in a particularly bad frame of mind in November and did not treat me particularly well. Because of that - perhaps in honor of who I used to be, that flawed and needy person who was not just "abandoned" but forcibly turned away - I choose to find my own way now. Not all the time, but for that one time of year when I had to be utterly alone. It's proof, y'know, that I can do it.
   And another part, this one wholly good: because I have come to love spending my Thanksgivings with the Cat & Beast & Sparky, and Beast's dad, and the nephews (the hot, disruptive, soul-searing one and the coltish, kind, silly one), and sometimes the niece (beee...yaaa...tch... um, don't mind me...) and her husband and whomever else might be there. That house is more comfortable than home, those people (well, the first three, anyway) are the very definition of gracious and comforting (not to mention entertaining, amusing and amiable), and the food is always good, too. Pie for breakfast kicks ass. The only thing that would make it better (besides either more or less disruption from the nephew): just a couple more days to enjoy it.

[from The Cat, who got it here; title quote from William Jennings Bryan]