What about the accompaniments, the side dishes, the wonderful little mounds that contain green beans, garlic mashed potatoes, herb stuffing, cranberries, and other mini-utopias that comprise 99% of my Thanksgiving meal? Heresy! The Thanksgiving deities may strike me tryptophan-comatose, but I just don’t enjoy turkey as much as the sides. Give me a dollop of Kevin’s cranberry compote or a piece of pecan pie any day.
Never mind this is why I now weigh 4 pounds more than I did before the prolonged food foray, and should I feel the need to get into my Christmas party outfits, will be forced to put in more appearances at the gym. One word: spinning.
My weekend wasn’t filled merely with gratuitous eating like everyone else, here’s something that should put My Weird Life in perspective: a friend and his wife asked if D and I would consider making them a baby. As much as the request was prefaced nicely and may have originated in honorable intent:
Add to it this Monday morning’s queries* from co-workers such as “How do Hindus celebrate Thanksgiving?” and “Do they celebrate Thanksgiving in your country?” … and I’m set.
*Answers: “Durrr (with blank stare)” and “Yes, in America, we celebrate Thanksgiving.”
