thanksgiving observations

    Just my luck, I claimed the pumpkin pie and my sister got the pecan. Every year my sister and I are in charge of the pies (well, apparently this is true. See, we don't remember ever making pies before. This year, for example, we stood in the kitchen just staring at the ingredients my mom had laid out on the counter for us, not knowing what to do with them. "You always do the pies, girls," my mom replied to our quizzical stares. Sometimes my sister and i think she lies just to get away with less work. But then again i do have a terrible memory, so maybe we did the pies last year after all.)
     I woke up on Thanksgiving on my own clock. No one shoved my shoulders, banged impatiently on my door, or coincidentally happened to vacuum right outside my door. It was nice waking up at 10:30. When i came downstairs a nice "egg-baked" brunch was being prepared by my mom. We sat down at the table and she plopped a pan of a thick combination of eggs, sausage, tomatoes, and chives. She sat down a platter of small pastries next to it, and a bowl of cut up strawberries next to me. I told myself i wouldn't eat the pastries but i did. I ate two.
     Then my sister and i made the pies. I called the pumpkin because i thought it would be easier to make. My sister helped me assemble the ingredients and we pretty much laughed the whole time because no matter how much we want to be good bakers/cooks, we are not. "Sydney, that's a tablespoon, not a teaspoon." You see what i mean? But i wanted to prove to my mother i could do it because lately she has had a bad habit of underestimating us soon-to-be-eighteen-year-olds. She would linger in the kitchen and i would tell her, "mom, leave me alone i can do this."
     "I just want to make sure you don't screw it up. You have a tendency to not pay attention to the directions."
     Unfortunately this was after the tablespoon incident so my refuting comment didn't have much strength as i would have hoped. I told my mom to just leave the kitchen. Just leave please. This whole fiasco reinforces our behavior the past several months. I think it's due to the attachment problems my mom has to us. She tries to make us feel incapable of doing things by ourselves so that we will stay close for college. What she doesn't realize is i am already staying close for college, and her comments only add to my worries and self-doubts.
      So the pie turned out fine. Originally I was very worried because the directions said it would only take 40-50 minutes and i take directions very literally. Well i take everything literally, i noticed. When the timer rang i would do the "checking" process and stick a knife in the middle of the pie. It always came back with goop on it. I would only add 2-3 minutes each time i checked it to make sure. After being in the oven for 60 minutes i finally just took it out and prayed it would be okay. It had to, because my sister and i had already made a competition of whose pie would be the best. I don't get competitive very often but with her i do because she is my twin and i have this unrelenting need to be better than her in most things.
     We arrived at my aunt and uncles house when the sky was just beginning to get dark. By this time i had already seen numerous instagram photos of my friends thanksgiving meals they had already eaten. Usually my family likes to host gatherings during the holidays because it feels more special that way. I love being a hostess. But unfortunately our floors were scheduled for being redone on friday. The carpenters actually called us a couple days ago and announced they wouldn't be able to make it until Tuesday. By then the plans were already made for my aunt and uncles house thought. But I wasn't too upset- they're better than my other uncles house, who one year served us frozen pizza at Christmas dinner.
    I am always the first to be out of the car and into the house because of my excitement (and- since it's a known fact everyone has to bring in at least one item- i always go for the things that are in bags so i don't have to take the time to take the food from the back seat. Call me lazy.)
   Whenever i enter their house i always remember to open the door slowly and small at first because they have two small parti yorkies that never run out of energy and are always sitting by the door in anticipation of the guests arriving. My grandparents have a regular yorkie the same age, so there were actually three dogs bombarding me at the door, squeaking up a storm and jumping up my legs.
   Something you should know: my grandparents spend more time at my aunt and uncles house than their actual house in Wisconsin. It's because they have a special bond with their youngest son they never had with my mother. So naturally they were already there when i walked because they had actually spent the night there before. My grandma was busying herself in the kitchen, running from station to station adding an excessive amount of different herbs and spices to everything she could get her hands on. (She literally dumps a ton of that stuff on everything she makes and sometimes it makes my eyes water).
    As soon as she sees me my grandmother drops her victimized salad and gives me a look that suggests  i am the lost puppy she lost years ago that was already proclaimed dead. She rushes over to me with outstretched arms and fingers (much like a toddler begging for food from his or her high chair) and kisses me... on the lips. I know, it's embarrassing and i always forget to brace myself for it even though it happens every time. It wouldn't be as embarrassing, except for the fact that i am almost eighteen and don't kiss anyone on the lips, ever. Also- not an entire factor but important nonetheless- she always wears bright red lipstick, so the evidence of her affection is all over my face when she lets go of me. Sometimes i think of telling her to tone down the babying. i know if i did she would take it very offensively, however, so i pretend to be happy with it to save her sanity (and my mothers ear).
     My grandpa is next, but i like him. He is a short man (but still an inch taller than me) with a skinny frame and a plump stomach. While he hugs me he pats my back. I don't have to worry about him because my grandfather doesn't kiss anyone. Ever.
     I run over to my aunt and kiss each of her cheeks while she does the same to me. We are both obsessed with france and so it's normal for us to give each other the traditional french greeting. My uncle Steve is preoccupied fulfilling his bar tending job and creating new alcoholic drinks that my parents wouldn't let me try (even though all i asked for was one sip!)
    I look over and see my grandma has finished kissing the rest of my siblings. I know she is about to ask me about my life to engage me in a long conversation so she can point out how amazing i am. Anticipating this i blurt, "Rachel has a boyfriend!" Instant attention diverter.
    And seriously that line worked the whole night. My grandparents have this weird notion in their head that my sister and i always have boyfriends that we never tell them about. When my other aunt and uncle came over with my cousins i blurted it out again and they instantly asked her a bazillion questions. Nobody wants to hear how single you are.
     I was actually thankful when i told my grandma i was single, and expected the usual line: "you are such a catch i'm sure the boys are just lining up at your door. Grandpa, get the stick!"
    During dinner my grandma brought up politics and i looked at my sister with wide eyes. It ended up being a two hour conversation between my parents and grandparents debating the wonderful/horrible acts of Obama. Needless to say they cleared the room quickly because the rest of us saved ourselves by slipping away to the kitchen. Later my dad said there was no point talking to my grandma about it because he didn't accomplish anything except a headache.
    When my aunt kathy took her kids to visit her mom, my uncle mark stayed behind and watched tv downstairs, alone.
     My dogs (they are five years old) were always escaping the wraths of the little, younger dogs. They chase my dogs around constantly and never understand when my dog Ana snips at them ferociously that she doesn't like them.
     My sister said she didn't want any pie, but then when i got my piece she ended up eating half of mine anyway.
      My brother ate the leftover pumpkin pie that was equal to four full pieces.
      My grandpa didn't understand how whipped cream could be homemade despite my mom and aunt describing in detail how they just whipped the liquid whipping cream.
      The music playing was Justin Hines and it was simply perfect. He is an artist that my aunt and uncle introduced to us last year and since then he has been one of our favorites.
      My cousins only ate three bites total of their already small meal.
      My aunt Kathy ate a piece of pie despite my uncle glaring at her and telling her it was unhealthy. I smiled at her.
      My sister's phone was constantly ringing with text messages from her boyfriend. I checked mine ten times and the only action i had were messages that weren't even aimed at me because they were in a group chat, and a couple snap chats from this one guy who used to be in my AP US History class. I never looked at them because he was creepy.
      When i was talking to my uncle and grandpa about this guy i like my uncle told me not to text him first. My grandpa agreed, saying, "Your grandmother and i have been married 50 years and I still have to chase her."
      My aunt Pam would constantly give my sister and i side comments about the use of our cell phones. We know she doesn't like it when we have our phones out all the time. Later that night when we were sitting right next to each other, my aunt texted both of us girls and we had a whole conversation on our phones. It's her way of being funny, but the conversation went on for more than an hour.
      My grandma made two kinds of salads because one was Asian and she didn't know how people would take it. but nobody ate either salad anyway because they know just as much as i do how many spices she puts on them.
      Mark was in charge of the potatoes and they actually tasted decent.
      My family said the pecan pie was the best pecan pie they had ever had. My sister then proclaimed that she will always make the pecan pie from here on. Everyone told me they thought the pumpkin was very good as well, just the pecan was amazing compared to other pecans.