Whatever happened to the Norman Rockwell portrait of the traditional Thanksgiving dinner with the smiling family gathered around the table passing the food, smiling, and giving thanks? LOL....not to be in my family anymore.
I had two messages on my cell phone this morning; one from Becky and one from my brother's "lovely" wife.
Yuck...I hate Thanksgiving at my brother's. His wife makes such a freakin production of the whole thing and he's a nut in his own right.
My mother and I had spoken earlier this week about the dilemma with my youngest not being able to eat wheat products of any kind and the cross contamination of cooking anything with wheat alongside what she eats. This disease of hers is no joke. It's not just an allergy. The smallest amount of wheat, rye, barley or oats will continue to destroy her small intestine. Anyway, my mother said she and Linda, the wicked one, had already worked out the food plans. My mom is cooking Megan's food seperately and using gluten-free products. I told Megan that yesterday as she was concerned about it.
What did my voicemail message consist of this morning. My sister-in-law going into a lengthy, detailed dribble asking me to call her back so that she could figure out what to prepare to "accomodate" Megan for Thanksgiving. Accomdate???? It's her niece for heaven's sake. I thought the "accomodations" had already been made.
I'm still sitting here cooling off before: 1. I call my mother and let her know that whacko is at it again; and...2. I return the whacko's message.