i am so thankful for turkeys that do not go gobble gobble but who settle inside our tummies, nourishing our innards, so most of it does not travel down that long black…colon.
or semi-colon. for those of you who have had the surgery…or the grammatical equivalent of a partial bowel movement. with or without the painful rush of an oncoming semi.
i am also so thankful that my brother, the closet chef, made noodles with pot liquor…which is, quite frankly, neither smokeable (except at a high temperature in the oven), nor intoxicating, but a wee bit addictive. i am sitting here, stuffed with noodles, garlic mashed potatoes, and the finest irish dressing. simmering in an arran sweater…
i am also thankful that i do not own a dog. not that i do not like dogs- i do like them, but my brother’s dog is a bit like an occupying soldier. Everyone says he doesn’t bite, but when you try to show him affection, he attacks you like you are a big chew toy. and while there is probably somebody out there in the world who wants to be a doggie chew toy, we will not dwell on personality disorders or the like during such a time as Thanksgiving, as it is called here in the “Land of the pseudo-free and the home of the team formerly known as the Braves”
I am also thankful that i can go to sleep tonight not thinking about turkey…or the dog eating the turkey legs…
.