Dim The Lights

And so we come once again to November, one of my least favored months of the year, containing my least favorite holiday.

Actually, I could do away with Thanksgiving altogether, and never miss it.

I think I’ve borne a deep-seated resentment towards this holiday since I was a child, to be honest, and I’ll tell you why.

As a kid, Thanksgiving meant having to dress up, and stay dressed up, All Damn Day. As a tomboy, this was one of the worst possible punishments you could inflict on me. I loathed wearing dresses, and having to wear one for a whole day… Not being able to climb trees with the cousins, or scurry up and down the cliff behind our house – hell – simply having to stay clean all day… It was hell.

And OK, the food thing was alright, but I was always a picky eater, so I pretty much stuck to turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing & corn. No funky salads, no strange fruity jello things, nothing unidentifiable, thanks. Pumpkin pie for dessert, with plenty of whipped cream, & I was done.

And then… Ultimate boredom set in.

The menfolk took over the living room to watch football, while the women ruled the kitchen.

There was nowhere for a tomboy cursed to wearing a dress for the day to go!

Gah!

I usually ended up sitting in my room, playing records on my record player, wishing I could change into my ratty jeans & scuttle down the cliff to the freedom of the river below. 

No joy. The maternal police in the kitchen guarded the stairway & would’ve caught me.

As a grownup, I became resigned to the holiday – until my brother destroyed it a few years ago for me with his hate-filled email one year, & a ranting phone call another year.

I… Quite simply… HATE … Thanksgiving with pretty much every fiber of my being.

And yet – every year, I’m forced to partake in this much-loathed ritual, to make my parents happy.

*sigh* 

At least I don’t have to explain why Mom asks me to make the pumpkin pie every year anymore, since my sibling & his family moved away. 

I wish I could say no.

I wish I could be far away this year & not have to “do” Thanksgiving.

I’ve never really seen the true need for this holiday. A secular holiday “celebrating” something that ended up being basically a farce? Pilgrims & natives eating together in thanks? And then European settlers basically trying to destroy the natives in their greed for land and domination? 

Why are we giving thanks again?

I’m thankful most of the year for what I have, I don’t need this one freaking day to remind me to give thanks – thanks anyway.

And shitty things always seem to happen at this time of year, so I walk around, cringing, waiting for the other shoe to hit me on the back of the head.

I’d like to just fit a dimmer switch on November… Turn it down, gradually, a bit at a time…until that day rolls around… And I can just dim the lights & pretend to not be home?

No Thanks, November.

I’ve heard that human beings have the genetic capability to hibernate, we have just evolved beyond the need to do so, since we have foodstuffs available to us year-round, instead of having to forage like wild animals.

Can I de-evolve a little, please?  Just for the month of November?

I’ve talked before about how November & I don’t get along.  It’s the one month out of the calendar year that I could, quite happily, skip, altogether.

For the last few years, it has been the worst month of them all… and yet I’m supposed to celebrate “thankfulness” during this same month.

*sigh*

1 year, we hit a deer on our way home from Thanksgiving dinner at my parents’, turning the front end of our van into a metal sofa.

For 2 consecutive years after that, I ended up in serious, horrific, fights with my brother, which ended up demolishing any kind of relationship I had with him.

The year after that, my MiddleChild was in a car accident, & we still don’t really know how she survived & escaped from her car. A simple miracle in the midst of an awful crash.

Every year.
Something awful.

So, you ask… what’s this year’s event?

Let me show you.

Only swollen 3 times it's size

All the pretty colors

Just ow.

Cracked ankle bone, severely sprained,  black & blue and freaking ouch all over.

Friday night I was babysitting for the Toddler Tornado.  He fell asleep on the couch while we watched a movie, & when I carried him downstairs to his bedroom… I missed the last, too – short step at the bottom.

I had the presence of mind to twist my body so I landed on my back on the floor, allowing my grandson to land on me, instead of the other way around…

But in the process… I heard my ankle “pop” 3, maybe 4 times, and we had to lie there for a couple of minutes until I caught my breath. 

TT was fine, a little scared, of course, but totally willing to fall immediately asleep when I laid him in his bed.

Then I crawled my way back up the stairs & surveyed the damage.

Well… yesterday was the doctor visit, who provided me with a snazzy black boot (so lovely & slimming, black goes with everything! ), and a pair of shiny silver crutches. 

But, I seriously think that- just maybe- I should look into having this month renamed

No-Jen-ber.

And just sleep through till December 1.

Think I could get that to happen?