My mom, sister, and I used to go to visit my mom’s sister and her mother in Louisiana for Thanksgiving. (We even spent a few on Louisiana State Penitentiary, but that is for a later blog.) My sister is two years older than me and my cousin Bobby is nine months older than me and the next closest cousin is Shelley, who is six years younger than me then followed by her brother Ross who is eight years younger. (I think, if I am wrong Ross can hate me forever for being a terrible person.) My Aunt Kea had her first boy when I was thirteen so I truly am the kid in the middle. I was also my generation’s little weirdo. Anyway, the kid in the middle has a strange role in Thanksgiving preparations.
The older kids always got jobs like cutting and peeling or sometimes keeping an eye on the younger ones. I was too young to be trusted with a knife so I got to grate cheese. Apparently it was considered safer to ask a small clumsy child to rake cheese across a field of raised sharp blades. No way I could get hurt right? So every year I would end up with a few band-aids and a terrible hate of grating cheese. I would ask to get a different job and I was informed that I was the youngest and the youngest got to grate cheese. When Shelley came along I realized that my freedom from that awful job had come. When she was about six I decided it was time to pass on the cheese grater to the newest of the Thanksgiving recruits. I was PISSED when I was informed that her job was to put away dishes and I was still to grate cheese. I was pretty sure I was somehow getting screwed in this deal.
When I was about fifteen I was particularly unruly because my teenage hormonal balance was beyond messed up and for punishment I got to grate cheese and make the mashed potatoes. This is when I stumbled upon my true Thanksgiving talent, I am the queen of the mashed potato. All those years my talents were wasted at the cheese grater when I should have been standing at that huge pot of boiled potatoes. It was the first time in my life that Aunt Lynn seemed impressed with anything I had ever done. This started my new role as the mashed potato girl and my many years of mashed potato snobbery. We all have to have talents and mine is making horrifying fattening and artery clogging side dishes. I am actually proud of this and I have to resist the urge to put it on a resume.
By the way, I refuse to grate cheese to this day and spend the extra money to buy the bags of pre-grated cheese. If I ever do decided to get that much-needed therapy I will discuss my trauma with the therapist, until then I will just be content with paying a little extra for convenience.
Geeks a Geeking