A Turkey Is A Turkey Is A Turkey

Instead of huddling into a crowded living area and holding my hands out in Dickensian fashion toward a blazing fire with my family on Thanksgiving-we defy tradition and go out to eat.

Is this a product of the deconstruction of the American Family or mayhaps it all dwells in the idea that sometimes a group of related individuals are just all too tired to cook.

This fancy chandelier hung above my head while I picked at an array of interesting dishes none of which the pilgrims would have chowed down on. In between bites of my Cajun rice and duck pate I noticed one distinct detail was missing. Turkey! I did not have one bite of turkey on Thanksgiving and I didn't feel the need to get up and have some carved for me either from the buffet counter. I know that little kids grow out of believing in Santa Claus but is it possible to be over Thanksgiving?

In the midst of my tired eyes glaring at the Christmas tree set-up in the lobby the holiday season suddenly seemed so present and simultaneously so far away. As a pair of mismatched women took nearly sixty pictures with disposable cameras I attempted to get one and the edgy lady snapped "we just want to finish the roll, can we finish the roll please." No compunction, no kindness, no thankfulness.

Just stuffed squeaky wheel getting the grease. At least the chandelier was fetching.