Big cough little sniff little cough little sniff Big cough Big Sniff

When I was little, getting sick meant chicken noodle soup and Sprite. A few "Please, mommy"s and well-placed pitiful (just enough to be pathetic, but not enough to warrant a trip to the doctor's) coughs, and I was sitting on the couch, surrounded by blankets and stuffed animals while I watched Eureka's Castle.

Keep in mind that I almost never did (or do) get sick, so it took me a while to figure this out. And for the first few years of my elementary school career, I got "Perfect Attendance" awards. Somehow I figured out that as great as these plastic and ribbon medals were, it was so much more awesome to stay home (although probably not for my mom who would have to stay home from work).

Once I got older and could stay home by myself, it was a little harder to put one past my mom. I would run the thermometer under hot water, pretend I'd thrown up, almost anything for that one day of respite from the oh-so-grueling-and-demanding high school.

My freshman year of college, I was so convinced that I was invincible to getting sick (oh, the naivety of youth) that I tried to get sick. Wading in the Provo River in the winter, wet hair in the cold air, etc.

But now I'm sick and there's no one to take care of me and make me soup and my throat hurts and I'm sad.

Thanksgiving? More like Thanksfornothing!

Thanksgiving is my least favorite mainstream holiday; it just doesn't do a lot for me. Halloween means candy and carving pumpkins, and Christmas means giving gifts and mistletoe, Fourth of July you see fireworks, and Arbor Day means planting a tree (ok, maybe not a major holiday but still better than Thanksgiving).

Thanksgiving means eating turkey (which is the reason I stopped eating meat in the first place), and pie (which I can take or leave); I do like mashed potatoes, though. Most importantly, Thanksgiving also gets in my way of celebrating Christmas earlier; I have to wait until it has passed to start baking cookies and candies.

Hopefully you can understand why I haven't made the trip home for Thanksgiving in three years. Sometimes people think this is sad, not understanding my indifference to this holiday.

Freshman Year was understandably mediocore. It was my first Thanksgiving on my own, and I thought that buying mashed potatoes at the Dollar Store would save me a few dollars. It did, but the entire days meals consisted of two bites of said "food" and one kiwi. I've since learned not to buy real food from the Dollar Store.

Sophmore Year was mostly skateboarding the streets of Ghost Town Provo.

Junior Year will be Beka and Brandon visiting, skateboarding, real food, and homework.

So my nontraditional Thanksgivings have obviously improved over the years. Perhaps someday I'll learn to love this day of gluttony, but probably only when they move it so that it no longer interferes with my Christmas Festivities.