Thanksgiving #italygirlproblems

I bought a Thanksgiving Parmigiana instead of a chicken 

I once again, hit another hurdle: my first holiday away from my family as a working girl.  I was a little apprehensive as I come from a large, loud family.  My dad is one of eight, and they are all very Irish.  Meaning get together's - even something as simple as a first communion is usually 50+ people.  My mom is Italian - and we all know how that goes down.  40+ people, everyone in the kitchen telling everyone what to do.  This would have been the first Thanksgiving since my great grandmother passes, whose house we usually have dinner at.  I am not going to lie- nostalgia was hitting me like roundhouse to the gut - and that is a little tough to swallow and not show your opponent that you are crying like a little girl.

Everyone gets a day: Mothers, Father's, Bastille's

 I am have so many things to talk about about but very little continuity so I will try and make things interesting but I cannot promise any smooth transitional sentences (*cough* sorry heather).

I am covered in bites, before you your knickers in a twist, no they are not the fun kind.  They are the itchy, hard lumpy kind.  There are these beastly warrior mosquitoes here that give bites the size of quarters and look like raised welts.....  And they are everywhere.  A legitimate question someone asked me was if I had slammed my hand into a door.   I look leprous.  Thankfully my face has been spared, but not much else.