Karen wrote:
> For those who have done this, or have had guests who do this, I am
> curious to know how it sits with you.
>
> For cooks who slave the entire day (me), I really don't appreciate a
> guest who has made two prior stops for Thanksgiving dinner prior to
> having dinner with me. A guest who isn't very hungry is really
> complimentary.
>
> I understand the blended families, or couples who want to visit both
> sides of the family, or this and that, but shouldn't one stop be the
> place where you break some real bread?
>
> Karen

This was always the worst part of the holiday season (not that there's any
good part, IMHO). When I was married (1981) we had to eat at his mom's
house. Her dressing was the worst, runniest stuff you've ever seen.
Dressing isn't supposed to be so thin you can run a spoon through it.

After that we went to his granparents house. I loved them. They were a
sweet couple and she made a wonderful meal. I actually ate there. But I
don't eat much.

I get tired of people telling me I need to eat more. Sorry, I'm full. No
thanks, I don't want any pie. No thanks, I'm full. Leave me alone!

Then we had to go to his uncles' house. They were so busy showing off all
the catered food they had in their expensive house. And of course his wife
(no idea what she did) was too busy to cook. So I made a show of eating a
few pieces of whatever, just get me the hell out of here.

Then we hit the slums. An aunt's house. The living room and bedroom were
separated by a clothes line and some sheets. Ever see the BW film 'It
Happened One Night' with Clarke Gable and Claudette Colbert? This was their
apartment. Where she lived with her 3 unruly teenage kids. Thankfully I
wasn't asked to eat there. I'd have called in a health inspector first.

Somewhere in the middle of all this we also ate a little at my parents
house, and it was a formal sit-down dinner thing. I do recall Mom made
instant mashed potatoes. Eeeek! She did serve real butter instead of
margarine, Holidays were the only time she ever had butter. She grew up in
the oleo (give me that packet to make it yellow!) years.

I hate the holidays. Come on 2008!