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Almost like having a new kitchen, except not at all like that in any possible way.

Posted by Miss Knotty on November 26, 2005

I cleaned house today. Which was good, the place needed it. I still have more to do, but that’s okay. I still have another day to do it. Ha! Huzzah for long weekends.

Thanksgiving was really cool this year. Instead of being all stressed out about what food anyone was bringing, or making sure the house was ‘Joneses-ready’, we all just put on fine duds and went to a buffet. No cooking, no cleaning up, which to me, is a DEFINITE BONUS. I hate cleaning.

The only downside is that there were no leftovers, but that’s okay. The benefits far outweighed the costs in that area. Although Aunt B’s cooking is so awesome, there are never complaints about leftovers. Definitely not.

So I went with my grandparents and my Uncle and Aunt, Uncle G and Aunt B and el cousinos – H-Man and D-Man – original names, I know, and Aunt B’s brother, Brian. He gets to have his name up here because he’s lucky. Hi, Lucky! Oh wait, there’s his new name. Lucky.

He was awaiting his family’s arrival from their Thanksgiving festivities that evening (Thursday evening to be exact).

The whole gang was converging for D-Man’s big game, the State Semi-Finals! Exciting times! The game was to be on Friday at 4:30. It was an exciting one too. D-man played really well and the team was really good.

I went to a football game. A high-school football game. To cheer on my cousin, of course. But even so, it was weird to me to be back in Texas Stadium. I hadn’t been back there since the last game of my senior year in 1997. (I graduated from hs in 1998.) It was, in its way, kind of surreal. I mean, it wasn’t for my alma mater. In fact, it was for our rival school, if I cared enough to recognize the fact. But I went and I yelled and screamed and cheered on the D-man and the whole team, and even made the little hand-motion like H-man taught me, and stood for the alma mater song and did all the school-loyalty things.

And knitted. I took my sock in progress (the purple multi-colored one) and got down to the heel rows by the end of the game. Go me! Power knitter!

But it was strange. I was so obstinately against doing all those school-spirit things when I was in high school, in an effort to prove that I was too cool for school (despite being a band nerd, which seriously pushes me waaaay back on the bell-curve of coolness), and not caring, and making sure that all the ‘right’ people noticed that I didn’t give two shakes about school spirit and how very awesome I was for not being all conformist. Because that was really such a successful tack.

My cousins, I think, are pretty school-spirit oriented guys. They seem to be in touch with friends from high-school (I’m friends with exactly 1 person from high school) and go back to games and stuff. I couldn’t think about going back to the high school I went to without feeling slightly nauseous. I wouldn’t go back there. I hated high school. The living of it was miserable, and rehashing those horrible times would only be painful and induce more unhappiness than the living of those days. Forget. That. Now college. College I would go back to in an instant. I LOVED college. Hated high school, LOVED college.

The very very best day of my life was the day I graduated. From that day, I knew I would never, ever have to go back there. I would never have to be in that set of circumstances again, or see that combination of people again. My life gets better with every second that passes that puts me farther away from that place and that time.

That said, if I hadn’t gone through that misery, I wouldn’t be who I am today. Misery builds character, I think. Some people believe that misery shows character. But it builds it in my book. If I hadn’t been so miserable in high school, I wouldn’t have forged the friendships that I found in college, wouldn’t have learned to read and study and talk to adults (which is important, since now it seems that I am an adult. Creepy, huh?

But anyway, after the game we all came back to Aunt B & Uncle G’s place and hung out, and I taught H-man to knit. He’s great at it!!! I told him that it’s an awesome way to pass time, because you have actual, discernible work product; a scarf, a hat, mittens, socks, whatever tickles the fancy, and, if the apocalypse comes, and it doesn’t take you with it, you can make your own garments. Nice, huh?

I also got to meet Lucky’s family, and H-Man & D-Man’s cousins on the other side, which I think aren’t related to me, exactly. By marriage somehow. In any case, they shall all be called the other relatives. Hi, other relatives! They were all great. I can really tell what a loving family they are. They’re big into the cuddling/physical touch; very hugging people, like to wrestle and put their arms around each other. Very physical. That’s not really my bag, but it was kinda cool, from an outsider point of view. It’s very obvious that they all care deeply for each other, no matter how rarely they see each other, and they probably keep in contact a great deal more than the cousins and relations on this side of the family. My family are pretty aloof people, compared to the other relatives. Physical touch is not our primary love language. I’m pretty sure of that. Maybe quality time or acts of service, definitely gifts, and words of affirmation, but not physical touch.

Interestingly, my main love language is quality time, seconded by a tie between acts of service and words of affirmation. After that is physical touch, then gifts. So I guess that tells you where cuddling and snuggling is on my list. It made me kind of uncomfortable, in a way, because it’s not my primary language, so I was kind of like….. whoa, for a minute. But that all evened out. It’s not even my secondary or tertiary language. So it was kind of awkward, a little. I don’t think anyone noticed, and everyone seemed to be having a grand old time. And so did I, because I really got to enjoy my relatives on that side.

Anyway that’s the story of my Thanksgiving. If I’ve left anything out, know that it’s in my heart and memory.



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