256: What do you hope for?
I hope I don't murder someone this Thanksgiving.
So, we'll be having it at Isaac's house, like usual, and there's going to be something like thirty people there if my math is right, let me see here:
Myself, and Papi, and Rachel, and Ben. That's four.
Aaron and Beth and the four fruits of their oh-so-happy union: Sarah, Sharon, and the twins, Samuel and Simeon. Yes, they thought that 'Sam' and 'Sim' was cute. So that's ten.
Isaac and his wife, Thérèse, and their three, Michael, Josh, and Becky. Fifteen.
Sarah's husband Jack, that's 16, Sharon's probably bringing some guy, 17, Sammy has his fiancée, what's-her-name, the blonde thing with the size zero waistline and the big teeth. 18. Simeon may or may not bring one of his classmates who has nowhere else to go, so, possible 19.
Sarah and Jack have Jack Jr., I think he's five now, and utterly batshit, and Katie who's two if I'm right about Jack being five, aaaand Sarah said she had big news to share and I will bet my damn apartment it's that she's pregnant again. 21, with 22 on the way.
Michael's wife Jennifer, and their little girl Madeleine. 23, 24.
Toss in any of the cousins or uncles or aunts who know that Jacob Levine can't bring himself to turn away a relative, no matter how distant, as long as there's a crumb of food left to be served, stir until you get thirty.
Add in Isaac's dogs, the two huge Labs that like to leap up on me and drool their hello, and the little dachsund, and that damn yappy ancient Yorkie that Beth insists on bringing everywhere and then always complains about when it's underfoot in the kitchen so that someone has to take the thing outside, where the Labs threaten to gobble it up in one bite, so someone has to bring it back inside and it usually ends up being passed from lap to lap, where it passes gas and barks its empty little head off the entire time.
Throw in the fact that I'm still off my anti-depressants and still craving nicotine with an intensity that would suggest I normally smoke two or three packs a day instead of just two or three...
It will be a Thanksgiving miracle if I do not commit homicide.
Or at the least dogicide. (Canicide? Caninocide?)
All of this said, I am rather fond of Thanksgiving, since it's very Jewish for being a major American holiday. All Jewish holidays can be summed up this way:
1) They tried to kill us,
2) We survived,
3) Let's eat!
(I didn't come up with this, if you're wondering. I'm not so clever) --which, if you substitute "winter" for "they" in the opening line, gives you a pretty close idea of what Thanksgiving is supposed to memorialize.
So. I hope for a good and happy Thanksgiving with only the usual amount of bickering, fighting, drama, injuries among the children, blah blah blah. And I hope Simeon invites back that very nice young man who came last time, Huy Nguyen I think his name was.
Because maybe he could eat Beth's Yorkie.
fandom: oc
muse: zippy levine
word count: 530
So, we'll be having it at Isaac's house, like usual, and there's going to be something like thirty people there if my math is right, let me see here:
Myself, and Papi, and Rachel, and Ben. That's four.
Aaron and Beth and the four fruits of their oh-so-happy union: Sarah, Sharon, and the twins, Samuel and Simeon. Yes, they thought that 'Sam' and 'Sim' was cute. So that's ten.
Isaac and his wife, Thérèse, and their three, Michael, Josh, and Becky. Fifteen.
Sarah's husband Jack, that's 16, Sharon's probably bringing some guy, 17, Sammy has his fiancée, what's-her-name, the blonde thing with the size zero waistline and the big teeth. 18. Simeon may or may not bring one of his classmates who has nowhere else to go, so, possible 19.
Sarah and Jack have Jack Jr., I think he's five now, and utterly batshit, and Katie who's two if I'm right about Jack being five, aaaand Sarah said she had big news to share and I will bet my damn apartment it's that she's pregnant again. 21, with 22 on the way.
Michael's wife Jennifer, and their little girl Madeleine. 23, 24.
Toss in any of the cousins or uncles or aunts who know that Jacob Levine can't bring himself to turn away a relative, no matter how distant, as long as there's a crumb of food left to be served, stir until you get thirty.
Add in Isaac's dogs, the two huge Labs that like to leap up on me and drool their hello, and the little dachsund, and that damn yappy ancient Yorkie that Beth insists on bringing everywhere and then always complains about when it's underfoot in the kitchen so that someone has to take the thing outside, where the Labs threaten to gobble it up in one bite, so someone has to bring it back inside and it usually ends up being passed from lap to lap, where it passes gas and barks its empty little head off the entire time.
Throw in the fact that I'm still off my anti-depressants and still craving nicotine with an intensity that would suggest I normally smoke two or three packs a day instead of just two or three...
It will be a Thanksgiving miracle if I do not commit homicide.
Or at the least dogicide. (Canicide? Caninocide?)
All of this said, I am rather fond of Thanksgiving, since it's very Jewish for being a major American holiday. All Jewish holidays can be summed up this way:
1) They tried to kill us,
2) We survived,
3) Let's eat!
(I didn't come up with this, if you're wondering. I'm not so clever) --which, if you substitute "winter" for "they" in the opening line, gives you a pretty close idea of what Thanksgiving is supposed to memorialize.
So. I hope for a good and happy Thanksgiving with only the usual amount of bickering, fighting, drama, injuries among the children, blah blah blah. And I hope Simeon invites back that very nice young man who came last time, Huy Nguyen I think his name was.
Because maybe he could eat Beth's Yorkie.
fandom: oc
muse: zippy levine
word count: 530