I looooovve this time of year.  Not the least of reasons why is that my mom busts out this serving tray for Thanksgiving and uses it for the rest of the holiday season.

It is a remnant of Fred, who has posthumously become my favorite Freaky Uncle Who Was Not Actually A Relative.

What is not to love about this thing?  The bizarre, seemingly blasphemous choice to serve drinks off the faces of religious figures*!  The fact that they look so stoned!  And clearly throwing gang hand signs!

Or is it simply that they look like any other teenager forced to come to Thanksgiving at my parents’ house?  Duuuuuuude, gimmeoutahere.

Although on more sober inspection, I have come to realize it is actually angels on a serving platter, they will always be Saint on a Plate to me.  Because as each Thanksgiving Day wears on, around the time my dad starts clawing at the wine box like a half-rabid raccoon looting a garbage bin and my mom 1) gets in a fight 2) moderates a fight 3) begs her family not to fight (subset a) why do holidays bring this out?  (Subset b) so help me, I will push you onto the porch and turn the hose on all. Of. You.

Right about that time, the saints start talking to me.

It starts out all quiet, all pssst, Anne! And giggles.  But around the time family  members circle the kitchen table like buffet sharks, snapping up bits of hors d’oeuvres, the saints are amusing me with their ability to quote vast passages of literature.

For religious dudes, it’s kind of surprising they know Fast Times at Ridgemont High by heart.  I bet you can guess who plays Mr. Hand and which guy does Spicoli.

Eventually, as my family is  sitting down for dinner at the table, the saints start fighting among themselves.  I hear them from the other room, their voices slightly muffled by drink bottoms resting on their faces:  Enough is Enough!  I have had it with these other effing saints on this mother effing plate!!!**.  And every single time they say this, I kind of lose it in my joy over the holidays.  But only in my mind.  On the outside, of course, my patrician facade remains unchanged.  But inside?  OhshitHAHAHAHAHA.  Because those guys are trapped forever.  Just like me.

Anyway, Happy Thanksgiving!

*I think it may enhance the flavor of the drinks, like a twist of lemon or something.

** One year they did the TV edit, because Thanksgiving is a family affair, and their Samuel Jackson voice was superb:

Enough is enough!  I have had it with these monkey fighting saints on this Monday to Friday plate!   Everybody strap it, I’m gonna throw this plate out the window.