The one with all the Thanksgivings....

I used to loathe Thanksgiving. Instead of a happy grumble of excitement in my belly looking forward to the day, I stressed at the thought of it. Because of this I found myself in Reno in 2007 and NYC in 2008. The latter being one of the best days (trip for that matter) of my entire life.

My animosity for the aforementioned holiday did not come from a distaste of any particular Thanksgiving course much like Chandler, the star of the show from which this blog title is stolen from, or the "stomach-is-overcapacity" message that my brain received a turkey-bite too late. I was plagued by the symptoms of any child of divorced parents.

[This is in no way a poor-me, post. In fact, it's quite the opposite.]

With each turn of the pages in my planner closer to our Thursday celebration, a nauseating feeling would rise in my stomach.

I felt slaughtered. Much like the turkeys that many would be feasting upon (except for the lucky SOB that ended up at The White House and was pardoned). Or the way the Natives did after the Pilgrims, well, slaughtered them. Now I'm being dramatic.

Where was I to go? Who was I to spend it with? Running around town sounded like too much work and the thought of leaving one parent for another brought indescribable guilt of picking favorites. After you ate dinner you were supposed to sit. Let the fat absorb and well, get fat. Unbuckle that top button; loosen that belt. Not go to dinner #2.

So I didn't do it. Goodbye Portland. Hello anywhere else.

I had to float away for a little bit to find my way home...and float I did. Just like the giant Shrek I watched fly down that New York street in November 2008. But after this glorious flight, Shrek was deflated into nothing but a glob of green wrinkled plastic without the assistance of helium and his team of people that held his strings down to keep him aloft.

Like the helium in a balloon, these ideas of stress surrounding what should be a happy holiday had blown up to capacity in my head. And I wasn't allowing my special "team" to help me through it.

Enter Thanksgiving Twenty-Ten.

I woke up at my dad's and took my brother his favorite pie that I make annually, no none of that Pumpkin business, Sweet Potato Pie. And then I held her. Miss Olivia.

Her first Thanksgiving. She wouldn't be feasting on Turkey, pie, or gumbo (another family tradition), she'd just be spending time with those who loved her. Eating. Sleeping. And that's all it took was a look in those big dark eyes staring up to me. The importance of my team.

After sufficient cuddling time, I went to dinner #1 at mom's with my grandma and uncle. We watched Charlie Brown [granny and I share a love for Charlie Brown], I slept and then awoke in time to head to my next destination.

To dinner #2 I went with dad, other grandma, my 2 other uncles and cousins. I sang 'The Beatles' while my cousins played back up guitar and drums on Rock band followed by the annual never-ending Domino game. We lost. But we had fun.

I was afforded the luxury of seeing all of my family in a day's time. How lucky I am to not only have the ability to see them all, but to have people that actually care that much about me in my life. It's easy to lose sight when you have these things within your grasp and you forget about those who don't have that love in arm's reach.

We're born within this small group of people out of 6 billion other ones walking upon this Earth, in such a specific moment in time. There's no choice to where you end up. But there is the choice to love.

I'm thankful for my team. This indescribable bond we share that requests nothing in return and I only feel for a very few select people on this Earth. I now realize what a unique experience this is.

What a gift.

The world made a little space today.

It may seem odd to question the significance of being present at a birth as this is the most thrilling of moments, but I contemplate everything and I've never experienced such a moment.

I was the youngest in my family. Obviously, my parents had been on the planet long before I and since I was the youngest, I never experienced the birth of a younger sibling. My cousins were born either before me, when I was too young to really know what was going on, and when I was old enough, they were out of state. But today, I was old enough and sitting in that waiting room right down the hall, holding my breath to ensure I’d hear the beautiful screams of our little girl, my niece, when she was ready to join us.

We arrived at 6pm Friday evening. She arrived at 2:16pm Saturday afternoon and trust, not a minute sooner (That is the very short version to a long laborious process). Her mother, by the way, is a rock star. What she endured and the duration of which, was simply incredible. She brought it.

The world made a little space today (yesterday now). Enough for 7 pound-7 ounces of joy to squeeze into and make her own. And in the process, forever changing the lives of those who awaited and welcomed her.

It is an indescribable excitement that I, or anyone for that matter, feels about the birth of a baby that is apart of their family or part of someone’s family whom they are close to. These last 9 months have been an extreme test of patience (which I have little of anyway but the teaching thing is slowly but surely helping), awaiting the arrival of my niece. Of course I filled this time buying her cute outfits and accessories which I would one day get to dress her in and books that I still can’t wait to read to her and help her sound out those tough words in. We’ll succeed together.

Seeing that full head of dark hair and that perfect blend of skin to make an olive complexion, I could not and did not try to hold back any tears. Here she was minutes ago a bump in a belly whose heart beat was our joyous music, and now here she was making the cutest sneezes, a noise much sweeter than anything I’ve ever heard before and sucking her oh-so-tiny thumb.

Staring at this little creation in my brother’s arms as he looks at her with adoration, steals my complete breath, takes all the moisture out of my mouth and I shed relentless tears that I won’t fight back. Here is the person who’s foot of the bed I snuck into on nights where the shadows scared me on my walls or a nightmare startled me awake, holding his very own daughter. He’s the one I always resented for being overprotective or too “nosey” about where I was and who I was with, now holding his own little girl. How lucky she will be to have someone who cares for her more than anything else on this Earth. And on those days when she is frustrated and doesn’t understand the loving place it comes from, I can’t wait to talk her through it. I know he’ll make space when she too thinks that there are monsters in her closet.

I’m so excited to get to know her. I wonder what kind of ice-cream she’ll pick when I take her to Baskin Robbins or what her favorite movie will be. I wonder what colors she’ll want to decorate her first big girl room in and which Disney character she will run to hug on her first trip to Disneyland. Oh, the places she’ll go.

In closing, I happen to be reading ‘To Kill a Mockingbird” right now. For some reason, every book I seem to pick up, conveniently fits right into my life at that moment. And for this moment particularly, “To Kill a Mockingbird” has touched me.

“Jem” I asked, “what’s a mixed child?”

“Half white, half colored. They’re real sad.”

“Sad, how come?”

“They don’t belong anywhere. Colored folks won’t have ‘em cause they're half white; white folks won’t have ‘em cause they’re colored so they’re in betweens. They don’t belong anywhere.”

There is nothing more beautiful than the blend of these two colors in her skin. She’s blessed with the absolute best of both worlds and I will always tell her that. I’m sure the world will too.

The world has made a space for you and that is with us and in our hearts forever. There is nowhere else you're supposed to be.

You belong right here, Olivia.

The Rent IS too damn high.

Thank God Midterm elections are O to the VER.

I'm also very thankful for Jimmy McMillan for sending us comic relief in his newly founded party: The Rent is Too Damn High Party. Hey, makes more sense to me than the tea party.

I'm sick of the libel that invades my mailbox on its unfriendly card stock.

I'm sick of the slander that interrupts my otherwise pleasant television watching experience. I'm sick of the lies that people regurgitate as truths in order to further their own political career claiming it's really the people they care about.

I'm sick of the hate and disrespect for our President that so easily slides off the tongues of [Fox] news correspondents, disregarding the inheritance of a poo-pile on his desk from a President they elected.

I'm plain ill by the little regard and civility we have toward other human beings when trying to be elected into office.

We have people claiming not to be witches in the same breath they are talking about masturbation (but something tells me you are a witch, O'Donnell), taking baseball bats to the podium in their cessation speeches (what the hell Paladino?), Americans stomping on each other's heads because they cannot accept peaceful blue protesters, and elected officials claiming that our President is taking lavish trips that cost the American people 200 million dollars a day only to find out these "factual" numbers came from an anonymous source in the Indian media. These are the people running [or attempting] to gain a seat in our government.

They be crazy.

Batsh*t crazy. [Related: Why is it that bat feces are seen as crazy?]

No wonder Jon Stewart felt the need to have a rally to restore sanity. Although a satirical persona, Stewart is a smart guy and articulated something that I'm sure many of you believe to be at the root of our problem. The media.

"The press can hold its magnifying glass to our problems and illuminate problems heretofore unseen. Or it can use its magnifying glass to light ants on fire, and then perhaps host a week of shows on the sudden, unexpected dangerous-flaiming-ant epidemic. If we amplify everything, we hear nothing."

Yep. That about sums it up.

We can't base elections off of who spent more money dragging their opponent through a poo-storm. Oh wait, we do. What a waste of time and resources. Why not donate that money to the economic turmoil you're complaining about in your stump or to a cause where it actually goes toward helping people. Because that's what you want to do when you're in office right? Help people? Not to sound cliche, but put your fat wad of cash where your mouth is.

I wish we could do away with parties altogether. I know this wouldn't be possible as we see each other as either red or blue (and if you're not one of these, we don't care). How I long for the days when 'Tea Party' was something I associated with a girl called Alice in wonderland. And while I'm wishing for things, I also miss the days where Sarah Palin was not part of our vernacular and certainly not meshed in the same sentence as 'candidate for Commander in Chief.'

I'm starting to feel ill again. So I'll leave you with this:

"Most Americans don't live their lives solely as Democrats or Republicans or conservatives or liberals. Most Americans live their lives that they're just a little bit late for something they have to do. Often it's something they do not want to do, but they do it. Impossible things get done every day that are only made possible by the little, reasonable compromises." - J. Stewart

I'm pretty certain though, that the insanity all goes back to one issue and one issue alone:

The rent is too. damn. high.