As I've mentioned before on this blog, I'm married. I love being married, and I love being in love. I love my wife, I love my kids, and dammit, I'm a pretty happy guy. I'm not trying to rub it in the faces of you single readers out there, but being married and happy is the shit. Ok, ok, ok, so I'm not always happy, and yes there are times that the members of my family get on my nerves. But having them in my life makes it worth living inspite their shorcomings or quirks. What can I say, we all make compromises for or in the name of love because thats what love is about.
For example, the other day when I wanted to watch the football game, Ashley my 1yr old wanted to watch "The Wonder Pets" on Noggin. So there's more than one television in my house, so that wasn't the problem. Actaully I was in another room trying to watch the game when she brought me the remote from the other TV in the bedroom. When she does that, it usually means that she wants me to find her favorite show on TV. For the last couple of months watching those shows has become a favorite pastime of mine. Trust me, there's nothing like having my daughter curl up or lay on me watching "The Wonder Pets" or "Dora The Explorer". Its a special bonding moment between us ( not that she isn't glued to my side as is) that I look forward to every single day. Its become a habit of sorts and its what she expects. So instead of watching football, I opted to spend time with my 1yr old watching her now favorite cartoons because thats what love is about.
Thanksgiving was extra special this year because it also happened to fall on my wedding anniversary. It has been 4yrs now since my wife and I have been together, and I'm as happy today in having her in my life since the first day I laid eyes on her. As I mentioned before, I love my wife. Instead of us having or spending our anniversary by ourselves, unexpected to everyone, we opted to share our day with the rest of the family for Thanksgiving. See, thats what love is about. None of my family lives here in Tennessee, so spending time with my in-laws has become a welcomed substitute. And like most families, even with their share of issues, holiday gatherings are priceless because thats what love is about.
If you knew me, mor saw me, you'd see right away that I have a weight problem. Thats right, I can't wait to eat most of the times. So since mom is on the other side of the country, I was looking forward to Thanksgiveing dinner at my wife's grandmother's house were we all gathered. Its really funny that I've been in the family long enough for my wife's grandmother to know that I don't eat chitlins. I thought it was funny that when fixing us plates she brought that up. They all eat chitlins, and they have been known to come from far and wide just to eat grandma's chitlins. Now, I can't eat that nasty ass shit as much as I love food, but let them tell it, they can only eat grandma's chitlins and nobodyelse's. Even though I don't understand it, I guess I can only say thats what love is about.
Personally, I don't understand how anyone could eat the inner shit tube of a pig. Hell, I don't understand how in the world you can get past the smell of cleaning and cooking that stuff to even bring yourself to eat it. Have you ever smelled that stuff? It fuckin stinks! If you wanna know what the inside of your asshole smells like, g'head and run down to any kitchen in the south around Thanksgiving and take a wiff. I can’t believe that today, despite all the social, cultural, and economic strides black people have made over the years, so many of us still insist on eating that grimmey shit. I’m pretty sure that 50% of the reason MLK ever marched anywhere is so his children wouldn’t have to eat pig intestines ever again. But inspite of making great strides as a people, from the days of slavery, people still eat chitlins. My wife loves them, and in spite of that, I still love her and I won't hold it against her because that's what love is about.
After Thanksgiving dinner, we played spades, and drank beers all the while talkin shit, laughing and having fun. When it was time to go (it was close to midnight by the time we left) my wife made sure she fixed a plate of chitlins to take home. It was a big ass plate, and I expected that, as she does it every year. This year I was a little disapointed that she forgot to take home a plate of her grandma's dressing. Trust me, her dressing is the bomb. Considering that I had been drinking, my wife drove us home. The 1yr old was asleep in the backseat while I rode shotgun. During the ride home it was then that I realized that I was holding a plate of chitlins in my lap. Its probably the closest I've come to the stuff, and I swear it kinda freaked me out. I couldn't help but to think that in my lap were the shit tubes of a dead pig. In my mind I felt guilty of desecrating the memory of our fallen African American ancestors from the days of slavery by being an accomplice to my wife eating chitlins. But hey, thats what love is about.
It really bothered me, and at one point I even thought of just sitting it on the dashboard as she drove just to get it out of my hands. If I was drunk I probably would have done that. But the image of flying chitlin juice all over the place, or splashing in my face should we make a sudden stop changed that idea real quik. Hell I even thought of throwing it out the window, but I didn't wanna piss my wife off. The last thing I wanted to do after a nice day of giving thanks was to ruin my chances of getting some anniversary sex. Its hard enough trying to have sex with a cockblocking nosy 1yr old around the house much less to try and have sex with a woman you've angered by tossing out grandma's chitlins. But hey, thats what love is about.
We got home, she ate the chitlins, I made her brush her teeth, and I had a happy ending...
“He who warned uh, the British that they weren't gonna be takin' away our arms, uh by ringing those bells, and um, makin' sure as he's riding his horse through town to send those warning shots and bells that we were going to be sure and we were going to be free, and we were going to be armed.” -- Sarah Palin on Paul Revere