Well, it's that time of year again. When we stuff ourselves full of triptaphan and pretend we're not sacked out on the sofa while our spouses are trying to talk to us. I ate so much turkey last year, I actually don't remember much of the Thanksgiving weekend. I spent it horizontal on the couch with strains of "A Christmas Story" playing in the background.
I'm off to the grocery store soon to buy the gobbler for tonight. Dave and I will be celebrating it tonight instead of Thursday, since duty calls for me the next two nights. (They made me an offer I couldn't refuse...and who am I to say no to cash?)
I remember holidays being a huge deal when I was a kid. Not so much now. It's usually just Dave and I, with the cat camped out at the foot of my double ovens eyes glazed over waiting for the bird to come out of the oven. She's addicted to fowl of any sort. It's really very sad the way she carries on at the holidays.
Generally, Dave and I will get a bottle of the bubbly and toast what we're thankful for in the previous year. This year I have much to be thankful for. I've sold 3 manuscripts since last Thanksgiving and Dave has gotten his website up and started school. We've been both moving forward on our creative endeavors and with some marked success. We are both relatively healthy and we seem to be making our bills on time. That in itself is a major accomplishment.
Speaking of which, I better go and get the bird so we have something to eat this evening.
Have a safe and happy Thanksgiving.