Easter Gripe(s)

And now that I've gotten the sensitve family drama stuff out of the way, here's my gripe.

Somehow my family has gotten it in their heads that I don't or can't cook. Which is bullshit - I cook just as well as anyone else. Probably better than most of them. But you screw up one batch of something called "Fool Proof Fudge" and you get labelled for life. Never mind that it was in high school, more than 15 years ago.

I do have bad luck. Last year at Christmas (2006) I said, "Hey, let's fry a turkey!" DH decided to marinate it, my dad actually did the frying, and it turned out black. But I'm the one who got the credit for that one, even though all I did was float the suggestion. When I was in charge of frying the turkey the first time we did it, it turned out perfectly.

Anyway, because of this misperception that I can't cook, I am always asked to bring the salad. Sometimes the drinks, too. And the first year I made the mistake of making The Best Damned Salad Ever, just to spite them all. Well, that plan backfired, because now I'm asked, "Can you bring *your* salad?" And all the other cousins have staked their claims on the other holiday side dishes, things I could have fun with, like the sweet potatoes or the green beans or the rolls. I made these really yummy orange cranberry dinner rolls one year, and was told that they prefered those store-bought things instead, so now someone else brings the rolls.

Usually what we do is get a ton of different veggies and acoutrements for the salad, and put together a mini salad bar. Again, just for spite. You want a salad? You got it.

This year I was hot, and tired, and pregnant (which means I was cranky), so I just chopped everything big and threw it together. And you know what? I don't think anyone ate any of it. DH and I ate more of it when we got home than the entire family ate at the dinner.

Granted, there was drama at the dinner. And we do love salad. But still.

One of these days I may comandeer one of the "lesser" holidays, and show them just what I can do. With my luck, though, something will burn and THAT'S what everyone will remember, and talk about for years to come.

That, and three different people touched my belly. I actually told my sister to back off, I said "Don't touch." Her response? "I have to touch. I haven't seen you pregnant, I'm the aunt, I get to touch." Then she did it again!!! I 'bout smacked her upside the head. DH doesn't even touch uninvited. I mean, really, how would she have felt if I'd just grabbed her boob? It would have been about as appropriate as her touching my belly, especially after I asked her not to.

Seriously. What's wrong with people?