TALES FROM SUBURBIA
PT. 1: GOBBLED

I appreciate these little traditions that seem to be a thing around our subdivision. Last week, for instance, I got gobbled. 

No you pre-verts, not that kind of gobbled. I'm talking about this:

Apparently "gobbling" is the Thanksgiving practice of leaving a treat bag on a neighbor's doorstep with a sign and note asking them to anonymously pay it forward and do the same to another neighbor. It was a fun little surprise, and our treats included some Nestle miniatures, a few caramels, some biscotti, and a small pack of Twizzlers. I'd enclose a photo but everything was consumed pretty quickly; John and I hadn't yet detoxed from all the leftover Halloween candy we'd been scarfing up and were badly in need of a sugar fix.

The attached instructions said I was supposed to "gobble" someone within two days. I promptly forgot. Then yesterday--two days before Thanksgiving--I remembered. I searched through the cupboards but all I came up with was a half empty bag of Community coffee, some loose tea bags, a couple sweet potatoes and a pack of Harvest Snaps. And I was NOT about to part with my Harvest Snaps. Fuck that noise. 

So then I hit the supermarket. Ever been to the supermarket during Thanksgiving week? It's a clusterfuck. I grabbed a bag of Airheads and went looking for something besides candy to include in my gobble bag, like a little festive button with "Happy Thanksgiving," on it and maybe a seasonal pencil topper to throw in there. You know, just trying to be original. But being Thanksgiving week and all, I soon found myself just needing to get the hell out of there. 

In the end, these were my offerings:

Yeah, that's orange cookie icing and a wax moustache. It was the best I could do.

I packed up the gobble bag and chose one of the smaller ranch houses a few streets over from us, one that didn't show any signs of kids living there. I thought maybe a single person or some elderly retiree might get appreciate being gobbled.

I feel like I've now fulfilled my suburban neighborly obligations for the fall season, anyway.