I’m so sick of politics that I might write in a vote for Martha Stewart and call it a fucking day. She hosted The Apprentice too, don’t forget. I know, I know. Opting out is not an answer. I am sure the election is wearing thin wherever you live, but it’s probably not as bad as Ohio. I suppose Nevada and Pennsylvania have it tough too. I have to deal with this shit even at the farmers market. There is a Trump campaign office on the block, an Ohio Women’s GOP table, a county Democratic office, and a Hillary table all vying for attention while I’m just trying to find some fucking Hubbard Squash and remember which heirloom apples I like and which is that one that tastes like bland ass. They berate you. The Trump people are always flushed and red faced and SO MAD and the Hilary people are snarky and off-putting. The funny thing for me is that amid the rampant profiling either party does, I seem to throw a bit of wrench into their “should we talk to him or are we wasting our time?” flowchart. I’m questionably young enough to probably not be a Trump supporter but my Log Cabin Republican hair and matching shirt and market tote monograms don’t exactly read free spirit “millennial” either. So they trepidatiously bother me, unsure if they are going after the enemy or preaching to the choir. I’m the big, loud, gay political question mark of Delaware County. So I do what I always do when I’m annoyed: tell them what they want to hear, and rudely dismiss them. You know, Hillary is so damn corrupt WHY ISNT SHE IN JAIL AND BENGHAZI YA KNOW and Trump is SO inexperienced and I worry for our safety if he’s elected! What kind of role model would he be FOR OUR GIRLS? Was that so fucking hard? Why do we all need to fight? I get a nod of satisfaction, a pat on the back from Trump people—sometimes a kinda homoerotic neck grab/massage, and the Hillary people ask me if I want to contribute. To which I always say Thank you so much! And walk away. I’m not having it. I’m done. In case you didn’t already know, smiling and saying Thank you is the easiest way to shut down most anything. Followed only by my seasonal favorite Have a merry Christmas. It’s a somewhat polite way to end a conversation and slither out.
My family is equally divided in politics and we have some major arguers. My mom and grandpa, particularly. My sister will ignore it for two drinks, but once she’s poured her third, watch out. I dismantle arguments deftly with unrelated questions, forceful parameters on answers, and witty correction if anyone tries to veer back toward politics. I moderate kind of like if Kim Jong-un and Oscar Wilde had a baby. My sister eclipses arguments by dramatically gesturing and singing from various Andrew Lloyd Webber musicals over her whiskey. I encourage her to go with Evita vs Phantom because I’m not sure my crystal can take the high notes. It is hard to argue politics with a drunk woman acting like a cat belting out Memory at the table. If you have a current or former theater nerd in your family, you understand. They never grow out of their showtunes, god love them.
Suffice to say, the holidays will be interesting this year in the wake of the election. God willing it’s indeed over. Fuck it. Who has time for this with Thanksgiving so rapidly approaching? As I said last year, I love hearing about other families’ Thanksgivings even more than I like talking about my own. So If you didn’t share the rundown of your holiday last year, please do so. How many people? Who cooks? Shared or divided labor? Formal or casual? Do you eat at noon, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, or 8? How late do you run? I run about an hour late usually. I’m right on schedule until people get here, at which point I stand and chat a while and empty a prosecco bottle until the energy shifts and people start looking at the oven. One table? Two tables, one room? Two rooms, two tables? Are people welcome all day or just for the meal? How do you handle football? Do you turn your heat on so the cold people are comfortable or turn it off so the hot people are tolerable? Honestly, no detail is too small for me.
|An adorable ad for Bell Telephone from National Geographic October 1954|
I’m a week earlier than last year on my Thanksgiving series, but wouldn’t you agree it’s time? Please answer any or all of the questions and let me know about your Thanksgiving. If you answered all these last year, what’s different this year? What was your triumph last year and what was your demise? I would say my triumph last year was my scheduling and my demise was my ugly platter of carrots and parsnips. You may comment on politics if you like, but I really don’t give a shit. We have more important matters at hand!