Feeling: irritated
Listening to: Glen Hansard - Trying to Pull Myself Away
Reading/Watching: working on my final paper... allegedly

Thanksgiving in my parent's house is a lot more mature than it used to be.

No more squabbles over food, no elbowing someone away from the marshmallow-covered yams, and every place setting includes a glass of red wine (which is no longer expected to be knocked sideways onto the white table cloth). We talk about our jobs, or spouses, our plans for the years ahead. We sneak peeks out the window to make sure the dogs are getting along in the back yard (we're probably just a few years away from doing the same thing with grandchildren).

But the big dinner itself is still a sad retelling of The Little Red Hen. Except Mom tends to rope me into helping, one way or another, unless I volunteer out of guilt, and it's more like two hens. If Bear was here, she would doubtless be in the kitchen, too. But the testosterone-laden members of the family watch football.

Let's just say it's annoying.

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