How to ruin Thanksgiving dinner without even showing up

One of my favorite things about my old job was the two hours of volunteer time we were allotted every month, which I spent with my kid brother under the cover of "mentoring troubled youth." I may have been laid off, but I'm sticking to routine, at least for now. Yesterday I met Shane at Java Joan's at the usual time. I saw my first Christmas tree of the year there, though I couldn't tell if they were done decorating it. There were only seven ornaments on it, and the lights didn't seem to work. Maybe Joan is making some kind of political statement.

We got our coffee and sat in our usual booth. Only this time when I asked Shane what was going on, instead of his usual initial response of "nothing," he launched straight into an impression of Rob bitching about how I portrayed him in the book. Rob claims he never drinks in the driveway like I said. "Never" is a matter of timing. He finished off part of the garage when I was in college and set up a card table and two chairs behind an old shower curtain so he couldn't be seen from the house. That was in response to Stephanie complaining about Shane always wanting to go outside to be with Daddy because he could see him out the kitchen window. Shane was 3 then. Please note in my book, Shane wasn't born yet. Stephanie was nowhere to be seen yet. Nothing Rob complained about was actually untrue. He just has a shit memory.

So while I was uninvited to Thanksgiving dinner, I was present as some kind of invisible guest, pilloried in absentia by Rob and his partner-in-moronity Pat Donovan at subsequently louder and louder volumes as the day progressed until Stephanie finally lost it. She slammed a wooden spoon against the table, snapping it in half and then tossed the handle on Rob's plate. Shortly after that, he and Donovan relocated to the gentlemen's lounge out in the garage. Apparently Donovan didn't find any of my descriptions of him flattering, either. (They weren't meant to be.)

Tis the season to be thankful

Every Thanksgiving at dinner, Drew's mom asks everyone to say one thing they're thankful for. Usually I can't think of anything, so I just say them, for inviting me. And everyone laughs, because it's the same thing I said last time. Seeing how I just lost my job and my book sales aren't exactly looking like they'll make up for the lost income (reminder, it's only a mere $3.99), I'm sure they'll understand if I fall back on the old gag once again tomorrow. But I've spent the last hour or so thinking about it, and I've come up with a few things that legitimately deserve mention.

Here's what I'm thankful for:

1. Yesterday outside Safeway, a woman and her daughter were giving away kittens. There were four in the box on my way in, and three left on my way out. I never had a pet when I was a kid. Rob never wanted one in the house. I don't think Janice did, either, but she would have caved if I had asked. Rob, not so much. I stopped and peered in the box just long enough to lock eyes with the mouthiest one. Black all over, with white paws and a white stripe on his nose. I needed someone, and he needed a home. I had to ask the woman to save him for me while I went back in the store and bought food, bowls, litter, a litter pan, and a little toy mouse. Free kittens are expensive. I'm not sure Drew was 100 percent in support of it, judging by his perplexed expression when he came home from work. But he knows me enough to know I'll clean up after it, so all he said was, "What's its name?" As it was literally biting and scratching me simultaneously at that moment, I went with Diafol, Welsh for Devil. It's not as mean to call someone the devil in another language. He is a little devil, but he's so cute, and he really seems to like me. So I'm thankful for Diafol.

One angry man, and a Thanksgiving dinner un-invite

My first free weekday since the layoff, and I went to bed early last night because I wasn't feeling well. I thought I felt a cold coming on, but I seem to have dodged it. Whew. I woke up to an interesting voicemail, though. It's been a while since I've scored a drunken screed from Rob. This one was quite the ramble. Give it a listen.


Here's what he said, if you couldn't make it all out:

"Jason, come on, man, I know you're there. I know you're there cause it's a cell phone. You just saw it was me, you don't pick up. I don't think I'd pick up if I was you either. Yeah, I saw the book. Ray Donovan had a copy on his iPad in the store. I saw it. He showed me the, all the parts. You know, you said when I asked you, you said there's nothing bad. You know there was nothing good. I didn't see one good thing about me in that entire book. Not the parts that I saw. You never appreciated anything I ever did for you, Jason. Nothing. Nothing. I hope some day, you know what I think would be funny, your kid writes a book about you, someday, and you'll get to see what he really thinks about you, and I bet you it won't be good. It won't be good at all. I'll laugh my ass off. I'll buy a copy of that book, that's for sure. I'm not buying yours. Ray wasted his money on it. You can thank him. You know, don't come over here on Thursday. You're obviously not thankful for anything, anything I've ever done for you, all the things I've ever done for you. No, not thankful. And don't bother apologizing. I know you won't mean it. I thought I knew you better than that. Ah, fuck it. I'm disappointed."