Well, It’s Thanksgiving

Like many other people across the country, I’ll be spending the long Thanksgiving weekend feasting on all things meleagris.

You know, as in this:


And I’ll be with loved ones, er huh, “tolerated ones”.

This is an interesting holiday for the Kendrick clan.   We usually (but not always)  meet at the Kendrick Compound in the Texas Hill Country where we praise baby Jesus there’s no need to feign happiness, joy or gift giving.  We’ve actually stopped doing that because well, my family gives the worst presents.  Everyone buys what he or she would want;  what they’d like to receive.  The personal preferences and tastes for the intended gift recipient be damned.  These gifts are invariably taken back to their respective stores for an exchange or in-store credit.

Therefore, “The Annual Kendrick Family Holiday Receipt Exchange” will take place as it always does, on December 24th.

In the meantime, the focus is on gathering together to sing the Lord’s blessing and that we will make every attempt to  do.  No doubt it will be an emotional holiday; a true Hallmark greeting card kind of affair.  They always are.

My family has taught me that the word “dysfunctional” is nasty and doesn’t apply to us at all.   But irony of ironies,  the  phrase, “restraining order”, is part of our daily lexicon.


I’m sure we’ll take yet another photo of the event this year.  We started doing that 37 years ago…back when the family was far more cohesive, happy and willing to dine together without angry table clearing by drunken Uncle Carl, fist fights or death threats.

Here’s that first photo.   Happier times indeed :


Rockwellian, it was. I remember that day vividly.

Sadly, divorces, break ups, death, huge financial losses and cruel, cruel heartache changed the path of existence for so many of my family members.   For me, too.

But what can you do?  Life happens.

We still try to get together.   But as I mentioned, things have changed since that first Turkey Day gathering with extended family 37 years ago.

Want proof?

Last year, when we gathered at Cousin Jo Jo’s double wide (two months after his release from the Texas penal system) in the Freebird Mobile Home Park in Skynyrdville, an ugly and drab suburb south of the town of East Texas town of Lynyrd.

It consists of pawn shops, head shops, a few auto repair shops, 64 wife beater and gimme cap clothing stores, several beer joints, pool halls and Pop’s Choklit Shop where all the kids hang out after school.

Or would anyway, if there were schools in Skynyrdville, which there aren’t.

Here’s that photo:



Ah yes, the festive Thanksgiving bucket o’chicken served by Grandma and her National Geographic tits.  Such memories.

This year, I’ve heard the menu will change:  pork rinds, generic Kroger brand cream corn, tater tot casserole (made with  WIC approved cheese)  and of course, beer for the adults and light beer for the kiddies.

Well, that’s a fairly good summation of my holiday; I want you to have a good one, too.

So, with that said, here’s hoping all my Lauridians have a safe and happy Thanksgiving.

Much love and Rolaids,



  1. Re: WordPress hiccups. L, have oyu looked in you Drafts folder? Sometimes you can find your last autosave of the post and just save it again. Comments will be lost, though.

    Hope this helps.

  2. Loving the sarcasm, Tatyana. I get what you mean.

    Permit me to explain: I’ve been felled by sinus infection that has turned into the flu. I’ve not been feeling well for over a week now and really didn’t feel like going to that very creative place to pull out witty dialog visa vie fake e-mails. Everything I’ve posted in the past several days has been redacted from previous published material. I wrote this, the Thanksgiving piece a few weeks ago.

    The “real” exchange between two people who actually care for each other, and express it through smart ass e-mails, will be published next week. What you’ve been reading lately here in the comments section has merely been me warming up in the bull pen.

  3. yay! more fun.

    Sinus infection: now it’s my turn, it seems. Staying home, surrounded by heaps of tissue

    “No turkey, no turkey galantine, no turkey sandwiches, no turkey soup” etc for me! (oops, wrong holiday).

    Have a spectacular one, people.

  4. I know. I have Mount Kleenex piled beside me.

    If you’re congested, I’d like to recommend trying Zicam Severe Congestion pump spray.

    Tat, this stuff is amazing. It’s like this little auger that goes up there and opens every nasal passage with a diamond drill bit. I squirted some late last night…around 11 or so and I’m still breathing through my nose with little problem.

    I’ve got fever and chills, an overall malaise and I’ve lost my voice.

    I hope you’re fairing better. Rest, drink plenty of whatever and be well.

    Happy Thanksgiving to you, too!

  5. Good lord, I’m the Natalee Holloway of Houston. I merely consider to consider venturing into what inevitably will result into my being sold into white slavery and all I’m worth is a case of port????

    Besides, men like you who dare to get involved with the women you so obviously loathe, really shouldn’t keep knives or arms of any kind anywhere in your home. Guys of your ilk are only asking for it if you do.

    Cashcrop my lamb, I suggest that from here on out, you sleep with your arms folded across your chest, a la Barnabas Collins.

    And lastly, here’s a hint my fellow Sisters of Fallopia…always aim said “stiletto” just below the sternum. It’s softer, far more sinewy and if plunged in an upward direction, will pierce the mid to bottom section of the heart.

    Gets ’em every time. Don’t ask me how I know. These are just a few more of the things we will never speak of again.

  6. Sweetie, at my age, if I conceived right now, our spawn will have no choice BUT to be strapped to his plow plug of a mother. My ova are 49 years old. I’m flattered you’d be willing to make me this sycophantic receptacle of your misogyny, but I guess we could give it the old college try. But fair warning–he’ll probably be born with five tentacles for legs and a misshapen chimera twin growing out of his navel.

And now, you may opine your ass off...

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