Well… it’s that time of year, again, and this time we didn’t even have to dodge the usual invitations to disaster that always come up at Thanksgiving. Instead, we’re staying at home with the ferrets and the cat to have Mexican rice and beer and not watch football on TV–’cause we don’t have a TV and we don’t give a hoot about football (American football, that is, which seems to involve very little of foot-on-ball.)
It’s been a busy week so far, and what with getting the boat re-tied during yesterday’s wind/thunder/lightning storm , doing laundry, taking the pets to the vet, and getting the propane cylinders refilled, I’m amazed to be able to say I’ve completed 25 of the 28 chapters of the revision. Should be done tomorrow and then I truly shall give thanks. I’m ready to get on to the next book and put Poltergeist to bed.
So somewhere there’s a turkey giving thanks that I’m too busy to introduce him to an oven, I hope. He’d better fly the coop before next year, though… I hope to be a little more prepared for the stuffing o’ the bird by then–with garlic butter if I have my way. Yummmm….
C’mere little turkey. I don’t want to hurt you, I just want to eat you….