turkeys for Thanksgiving

This year, New York did not sit well with me. It was dirty and bleak, with bad architecture, even nastier people than ever (Robert, the ever polite, got the finger from a very pretty, well made-up driver). And my family... shall we say that if I was twice as gracious as my uncle, I'd feel ashamed of myself? The funny thing is that when we see him with "real guests," he's amazingly gracious, funny, and pleasant. But he went from crabby in previous years to downright abusive this year. My aunt was only slightly better, though I did have some pleasant conversations with her when there were just two of us. It was clear we were barely tolerated, which was better treatment than my mother got.

Robert, in his sweet way, opined that my aunt and uncle haven't wanted to host Thanksgivings for years now, which may be true, but I feel so much pressure from them to show up. Perhaps we should give them a break next year. We'd do better, I think, to have Thanksgiving by oursleves or to wangle an invitation with someone up here, or just to go to Ptown and have a relaxing weekend.

One highlight (for R, my mother, and me) was visiting Robert's sister and her family. The kids took a while to come out of their shells, but once they did, they were very sweet. The girls worked puzzles and danced, and the whole family sang together. The baby played quietly by himself and got lots of snuggling from the five adults present. Robert's sister even prepared a meal for us, a very lovely surprise, and something she hasn't been able to do for a while for obvious reasons.

We came home and talked to our United States parents, went out to dinner for south Indian comfort food, sat in front of the fire, and worked a puzzle ourselves. After a night's sleep in my own bed, I'm feeling much better. Oh, and even more grateful for my acquired family.