Pound Pup Legacy

OK, it doesn't fit like "racecars", but in my mind it does.  The zooming and the flashing and crashing of things.  I remember playing racecars, and suddenly it becoming very violent.

Thanksgiving is coming-up and it's giving me knots in my stomach.  I hate all these articles and commercials that advertise all the happy "coming home" celebrations.  Home for me was a house of horrors.  I hated living there.

I found the following advice on how to deal with not wanting to go to the mandatory holiday fake-fest. 

http://www.slate.com/id/2177888/?GT1=10636

Dear Prudence,

I dread Thanksgiving. My husband and I are expected to attend a family yearly Thanksgiving dinner hosted by my husband's sister and brother-in-law. We are never specifically invited by my sister-in-law, who doesn't phone or invite us personally; she does not speak with us throughout the year. My mother-in-law tells me that as long as she is alive—she's almost 80—she wants her family together for Thanksgiving. I've been honoring her wish because I love her dearly. After driving 200 miles, we're usually greeted by my brother-in-law, who invariably calls me by the wrong name. (My husband and I have been married nine years; I am that man's only sister-in-law.) I correct him, but feel embarrassed. At dinner, I'm seated near my brother-in-law, who continues to misname me. I offer to help with cleaning up and dishes, but my sister-in-law says she has "her own way" in the kitchen. We're then subjected to various grandchildren who perform, either by very bad piano or singing. We make our escape as soon as, and politely as, possible, having tried to converse with everyone but arriving at dead ends. Is there any reasonable way we can excuse ourselves from these intolerable dinners without upsetting my mother-in-law?

—A Turkey of a Day

Dear Turkey,

Before you go, read the collected works of Joe Orton; these farcical black comedies will remind you of your own family gathering, minus a dead body or two. It's too late to do anything this year except show up, at least for the sake of your beloved mother-in-law. When your brother-in-law greets you by the wrong name, you could just say, "It's good to see you again, Ralph" (assuming his name is not Ralph) and let it go. (Has your husband ever explored the possibility that there's something seriously awry with his sister and brother-in-law?) But while the day sounds dreary, it's preferable to the confrontations of more histrionic clans. After all, you arrive, eat a meal, watch the grandchildren perform (remember, their badness is part of the charm), then head back to civilization without even having to clean up. For the future, many couples alternate major holidays with their respective families—so why not visit yours next Thanksgiving, and then spend some extra time later with your mother-in-law? Or you could really shake things up and declare that since Ralph and his wife have been entertaining you for the past nine years, next year, it's your turn.

          Could absence make my heart grow stronger?

It's different when it's your own family, and even more different and difficult when that family is your adoptive one.  I have no other place to go for the freaking holidays.  It's either with them or be alone.

/

My usual cure is Wild Turkey, anyway.  Any cup or glass will do.  I'm not picky.