The Great Thanksgiving Roast (Wednesday)

(Start with "Monday" if you can. It will get you out of doing some Thanksgiving dinner preparations. "I said: I'll be there in a minute! I'm reading a very important blog!!") So, what were we talking about? Oh right. Deciding whether to attend or not attend the big Thanksgiving Day family fiesta. (Speaking of fiesta--Which one of your relatives would you most like to see as the pinata?... You know, so you can take a stick and beat the stuffing out of them...literally.)

My husband and I always head out to these soirees with such wonderful, positive attitudes. As we open the garage door, start the car, and put it into reverse, one of us usually sighes loudly while the other says: "Okay. Let's get this over with."Once you've decided that you will indeed attend, it is important to have a strategy. Remember, when you go to someone's house, all rooms are not created equal. In other words:  

Stay out of the kitchen. You may be lured in by the smells and the homey feeling. It's a trap. Stay away.

In the spice rack, behind the pepper mill, is the rumor mill. And the yentas who gather in the kitchen are aching to grind you and your infertility issues into it.

Now you have to decide. Do you want to stay in the kitchen, climb up on the counter, and field their indiscreet questions like you're at a press conference or would you rather avoid the kitchen and let them talk behind your back?

I've said this many times before so I apologize for repeating myself, but: You know when people always say: "If you have something to say, say it to my face!"? I don't see why. If you've got something to say about me, feel free to go over there and talk amongst yourselves. Why waste our time with their BS? 

I'm telling you: The kitchen is an evil setting:  First of all, I recommend you avoid places with unwelcome puns attached: 

"So what's cooking with you?"

"I have buns in the you?"

"Don't you ever want to have a baby? Do I have to light a fire under you?

"Go to the refrigerator and get me a couple of eggs. By the way, how are yours doing?"

And the main reason I would avoid the kitchen: Moms, grandmothers, sisters, aunts...too many women.

Sorry for the stereotype, but women love to gab... Sure guys do too... But not during football. The key is: You and your husband have to stay together.

Guys may rib other guys about things infertility-related, but they'd  have to be total morons to do it in front of you. What fool is going to say to him: "Still can't knock her up? What did you forget where it goes? You used to know when you were single. What happened, buddy, you need GPS?"..while you're standing right there?

If you have the misfortune of attending a shindig that's an all day affair, by all means, don't watch the parade! Too much parade-talk revolves around the small people. Too many kids in the parade. Too much of Matt Lauer saying: "For Children of All Ages". Too many ten year olds from Indiana being interviewed: 

"What do you like most about the parade?"

"I like the clowns"

(Absurd child. The balloons are the best part.  The clowns are always the worst part. The clowns and the marching bands. Tell me they couldn't keep showing the same band over and over again. Nobody but their grandparents would know the difference: "And now from Sweet Potato High School in Minneapolis. And now from Magnolia Normal in Peoria". They could just keep schlepping the same worn out kids around the block. )

And stay away from the dog show. Doggies are cute. Somebody (maybe a relative, maybe Mr. Peterson from Seinfeld who does the dog show play-by-play) will inevitably segue into "These people take care of their dogs like they're their children" and then we're back to that discussion again.         

But football is a good bet. And the fact of the matter is--(trust me: I'm a huge football fan)--During a game, nobody cares if you aren't getting pregnant. Frankly, during the Thanksgiving Day football games, I didn't even care that I couldn't get pregnant.

Listen, I gotta go. I have to reprogram my phone's speed dial. I'll make the Butterball emergency hotline #3. The fire department and Poison Control should probably be 1 and 2.

I'll talk with ya again tomorrow.