I woke up thinking about the time I had tried to exercise using Campell's soup cans as dumbbells (a helpful suggestion from Redbook for getting those pesky biceps in shape) and had broken out in large red welts all over my chest and neck from holiday anxiety and general malaise, the death of my spirit, and about four too many servings of turtle cheesecake a day chased with Dr. Pepper. My heart was broken as I wanted to be home, as in with my family, and I was not, I was with my soon-to-be betrothed's family and they were pieces of work. This should have been home sweet home but it was not, and I was beginning to the get the idea that things were not going to work out for me, not one little bit, and like a real fool, I could not or would not get off the ride. Such is life! I wore a large cross on a piece of cheap suede for protection against the situation, like one of the priests from The Exorcists and did not realize that I was in fact allergic to the suede which served to further irritate the welts and hives, making them bleed from time to time without warning. So there I was with one can of Chicken Noodle, one of Tomato, and praying to God that nobody would see me alternately bleeding, sweating, and then pigging out. Given what else had happened in the house, I shouldn't have worried. Had anybody spotted me, I assure you that they wouldn't have thought twice.
Had I been deep into writing at this time, all the activity, including my own misery would have served as a consolation. Looking back, I think of my favorite scene -- where an aunt, her boyfriend, and his ex-wife all showed up for Thanksgiving dinner three hours late, all hopped up on speed, the grandmother yelling, You're all on drugs! Look at you! Hell, they'd all have to be on drugs to be in the configuration they were. The aunt and the ex-wife looked like twins, both dressed in crocheted dresses that revealed a lot of nonexistent cleavage given that they were skeletal. He was my husband, the ex said. Nothing changes that! I will go with him to every holiday. Whoa nelly! For a brief moment, I felt thankful to be me. Which I guess is the point of the holiday. It wasn't the moment of gratitude and grace that I'd given up expecting, but then again, it never is.
Michelle's Spell of the Day"If you throw a frog in a pot of boiling water, it will leap out to save itself. If you put a frog in a pot and turn the heat up by degrees, it will die." American proverb
Drinking novel suggestion: Black and White Dani Shapiro
Benedictions and Maledictions