Every year, I go through the same, sick routine, pretending to myself that I am NOT going to overindulge THIS year. Nevertheless and despite all of the promises, one is absolutely obligated to partake of the pre-feast goodies, hand baked by the hostess... nuts, chips and dip, cookies and candy. Then comes the main meal, consisting of sumptuous turkey in a new recipe, dressing, salad, veggies, gravy... all topped with cranberry sauce and washed down with way too much white wine. Finally, just when your gut is about to bust at the seams, here comes the blueberry cheesecake. You know the feeling; it just lingers for days and days. This year, however, I sacrificed... I passed on the infernal fruitcake.
As for the conversation, it unavoidably turns to politics. And inevitably, one gets pressured against all inner wisdom into stating some position on the matter. I've discovered that it's actually a welcomed point in the day... every year, as soon as I blurt out my stance, someone says, "Well, we've really got to be going now," and the festivities come to an abrupt end.
Last year, it was the mere whisper of the word "Obama" that set things off; this year, the word was "Putin." I know you thought I was going to say "Trump," but it was "Putin." I guess that means that Obama is as bad as Putin, or vice versa.
Last year, it was all about how badly Obama was being treated by Trump, Limbaugh and Fox News. This year, it was about how Putin sabotaged the election. All had I had to mention was , "What about how Obama tried to sabotage Netanyahu?" You would have thought I pissed on someone's cheesecake.
Next year, I swear I'm not even going to respond to the dinner invitation. Who really wants to have dinner with Bill and Hillary anyway?
That's MY AMERICAN OPINION, respectfully submitted.
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