Actually there weren’t any tonight, not as far as I know. I still can’t write straight, and one more night of the gobble gobble awaits. Not that I’ve touched a single gobble gobble in the last 48 hours or 7 years really, it’s more of a symbolism. As I sat at Thanksgiving dinner numero deux this evening, one of the other guests was describing how and why she liked dark meat of the turkey better. No big deal, I remember how to communicate carnivore-style.
But since its 3am and I don’t really work tomorrow, I wanted to speak of this holiday and the bloggers I love to share it with. Meaning– there are certain blogs that are traditionally my favorites at this time of year, over the last couple of years. Which is why, for starters, I emailed xTx to send some love. When she’s home for the horrid-days, insanely wonderous poetry oozes from her fingers, among other orafaces.
And of course I also enjoy reading the man who sometimes ends up at a pub instead of thanksgiving dinner, mr thestateimin himself. He did, mind you, make it to relative’s house this year.
Finally, no thanksgivinin would be complete for me, without the BitchPhD and her mouse loving pseudononymous kid.
Course I read over a hundred blogs and love many of them, but these three have been thanksgiving staples for a long time, and are now part of my holiday ritual. Thanks my friends!
Mañana its some mysterious thanksgivin day-2 action with a whole collection of americans who I don’t know. It’s always fun to attend an expat dinner when you know hardly a soul, plus I heard it’s catered and all I’ve got to do is bake a pumpkin pie. Incedently, thanks to the help of my darling, the artist formerly known as frisbee girl, I can hereby bake a pumpkin pie. It’s not
For me it’s one of my greatest friends ever, who’s doing well, back in my beloved New Jersey. When I met him in high school, I can remember being in the outfield during softball games and just over from my position in right field… there he is in right-center… singing the lyrics to Limelight at a level that most of the outfield can hear. In the beginning I thought it was insane…. as I got to know the man, and yes, the music… I admit I even sang along. Thus beginning the tradition: as the years went by, different
So let’s see, how is the prime minister’s government planning to use it’s surplus:
And then there’s Afghanistan, where