'Tis the season

I received a card in the mail last week from Fred & Wilma. It was a standard 'Wishing you the best at Thanksgiving' type of card with the standard Fall colors, a picture of a turkey on the front, and sappy poem inside. There was also a handwritten note from Wilma, completely neglecting to actually mention the Thanksgiving holiday and instead informed me that my sister was flying in for Christmas and asking me to RSVP for Christmas dinner so that she would know "whether or not to buy presents".

This is the woman who hasn't spoken to me in almost 4 months. And from what I hear from my siblings, I'm the reason we don't communicate; she has told them that I refuse to talk to her. [sigh] Which explains the holidays, at least to me. None of my siblings, who all live out of state, are coming in for Thanksgiving. However, at Christmas, there will be 'witnesses'…How can she continue to make me at fault if she doesn't save face by inviting me to Christmas dinner? And the kicker? She knows full well that I can not accept the invitation, thereby declaring a victory for herself. Knowing how she feels about me, knowing what she has both said and done to me, how can I put myself in harms way by going to her home? Besides, I'm just not that dishonest. I refuse to put on a false mask just to save face. That's more Wilma's style then mine.

So do I ignore the card? Send her an email? Call her?!?! I've considered imitating (ie., mocking) her tone and sending a formal return RSVP card. Sarcasm, yeah, that's more my style.

What I'd like to do this year, is kidnap The Thing, The Boy, and The Girl and hold up in a hotel with hot chocolate and lots of presents and neglect to mention to anyone the name and address of our location...

Speaking of The Thing, The Boy, and The Girl; they will be meeting for the first time this weekend. My Thing will arrive Friday afternoon (or morning if my subliminal messages have been working) and will spend the weekend. So you won't be hearing from me for a few days. Unless, of course, The Thing bolts from my house terrified, in which case, I'll be on here blathering bitter diatribes.