It was just another Thanksgiving at my brother’s house in Philadelphia, where each year they get a turkey. A live turkey, that is, who parades around the house and is invited to sit at the table as the family eats crab. This year’s turkey was named Arthur and I hear he was a very good turkey, though I’m not sure how a turkey is especially good or bad without gravy and cranberry sauce.
But oh, the drama with Cindi and the “extended family,” which is quite literal with regard to my aunt Bertha. This is not to body shame, to be clear — it’s just that some people should not wear spandex and this is a fairly objective fact.