Approaching Turkey

Women bring you Thanksgiving, ladies and gentlemen, just like we bring every other holiday to the world. We are the ones who chop, dice, grate, slice, peel, devein, boil, parboil, sautee, fry, simmer, sear, flour, grease, sift, puree, mash, crush, and pound the freaking meal into submission. We are the ones who polish, mop, vacuum, Windex, scrub, wipe down, and dust. We rake. We move furniture. Sometimes we even paint and wallpaper if special guests are coming.

We are entitled to gin.

A friend of mine (male) often says how much he likes Thanksgiving. Well, yeah. Who wouldn't? All he has to do is sit down and eat a huge meal, then belch his way (or worse) through two football games. Meanwhile, who's doing the work?

Christmas is worse. What does Christmas mean to me? Two weeks of hard manual labor, kids, that's what it means to me. Okay, so there's some joy in it too, at the end.

I'm not a complete grinch.

Close.