Divorce and Mashed Potatoes

Don't y'all love my titles?! 2 Thanksgiving stories in one post, whoo hooo!

First:
It all starts with mashed potatoes. On H's side of the family, there is an ongoing joke about who brings them... 'cause it's never the same person 2 years in a row.

4 Years Ago: BIL's wife had the honors. She made the taters and sent them over, but never made it to dinner. Turns out she was a tad busy packing her bags and filing her divorce papers.

3 Years Ago: BIL's new girlfriend offered to whip them up. She was gone by August.

2 Years Ago: Auntie L took the reins and announced a month later that her and Uncle R were living separately. She found a new man pretty quick and just got remarried last month.

1 Year Ago: Aunt P laughed off the now infamous curse and brought some great spuds to the table. She passed away a few months ago.

This Year...
H's Aunt Biotch (as I like to call her) called and said it was my turn to make the cursed potatoes. She is also known as Passive Aggressive Auntie. It's no secret that we dislike each other.

In the interest of my marriage and self preservation, I flat out refused. H was horrified until I reminded him of the time line and asked if he wanted to start looking for an apartment right now.

I don't give a good god damn, I will NEVER make mashed potatoes for Thanksgiving. Call me silly or superstitious, I don't care. I refuse to poke that bee's nest.

Second:

I can be a SUPER NERD. ::gasp:: I know you all think I am so cool and whateve's, but everyone has their dorky side. My natural love for words and the uber competitor in me makes for a very dangerous combination. And when H and I go head to head at this game, we have a special name for it.

Blogger Buddies, I would like you to meet Divorce....

AKA - SCRABBLE

It's a tradition to bust out the board after Thanksgiving and play a few rounds. Since we all have usually had a glass or 4 of wine, it gets intense pretty quick. We call it divorce because typically loving couples will start hurling f-bombs at each other over the proper spelling of 3 letter words containing only vowels.

You will either pee a little laughing over this or think WTF to yourself. Only true Scrabble players will get it.

Anyway, I am ashamed to admit it, but I became so enraged at H this year that I started flailing my hands at him (intimidation!!!) and literally shattered my wine glass on a candle stick. All would have been fine had I not drenched my 10 year old niece in chardonnay.

She took it like a champ though and even managed to leave us with belly laughs.

Me: Niece K! I am sooo sorry! Let's clean you up!

Niece K: It's OK Auntie, I smell like you and Mommy now!

Yikes...