... making it through another Thanksgiving orgy of food. Truly, I don't know why we go to so much trouble every year. By the time everything is cooked and set out, the cook (in our case, cooks) are too worn out to enjoy it.
We were up until after 4:00am Thursday morning, baking pumpkin pies, cheesecakes, and cookies. Then, back up at 9:30am to get the bird ready. I'm not sure I actually had any sleep. (I know Mark didn't.) And, sadly, we managed to enjoy one of our newer Turkey-day traditions, again this year ...
Our lovely, beautiful, sat-in-the-fridge-for-a-week bird was still half frozen!
I try to tell myself that, with a refrigerator that freezes the pickles on the back of the shelf, we know our food isn't going to go bad overnight. But, it's really tough to remember that, when you're trying to get dinner in the oven. Too bad you can't fit a turkey in the FlavorWave - that thing'll cook anything from frozen-to-table in record time.
Oh, well. We had our family together. The food was good, if several hours later than we'd planned. And no one had the flu.
Okay, the bird is out of the freezer and into the fridge. After trying to thaw a frozen bird last year, we're taking no chances. It wasn't really our fault, you know.
The refrigerator had a tendency to freeze anything that even approached the back of a shelf. And, operating under supreme optimism, we didn't take the bird out until about 3 days before the big day. Little did we know that it would still be a brick, long after the oven was preheated and we were envisioning the perfect turkey.
This year - new apartment, new fridge - we are positive that a week will just about do the defrost perfectly. If nothing else, 'cuz this baby is almost as frosty as the one next door, we know that it won't go bad. Now, for the rest of the menu.
Obviously, mashed potatoes and gravy, and pumpkin pie. No one (but me) likes stuffing, so that's off the list. Ditto with green bean casserole. Cranberry sauce is borderline, with corn-on-the-cob a huge favorite. (Must be a throw-back to Indian maize.)
Rumor has it that French-onion soup is required. A first in our house, but it sounds good to me. The addition of chocolate-chip cookies and cheesecake have me a tad baffled, especially since I don't have a really good cheesecake recipe at my fingertips.
For whatever reason, (I just don't ask anymore) Mark decided to inventory all of the cell phones that we have used, stopped using, and saved over the years. Hey, it keeps him off the streets and out of my hair, so who am I to complain? Not to mention, detangling the charger cords keeps him occupied for hours.
We have discovered, much to our surprise, that it is in no one's best interest to insult the quality of a Samsung cell phone.
The first phone that Mark pulled from the abyss that is his junk drawer was a recently purchased, but less than welcome, addition to the collection. (Both of our sons love Samsungs. Dad does not.) In response to the phone lying quietly in his hand, he expressed a personal opinion that the phone was a piece of {fill-in-the-blank} and tossed it back in the drawer.
After some time spent organizing the remainder of the drawer's contents, he went back in for the Samsung. It was nowhere to be found! Nowhere at all!
We have now determined that either the phone or our personal gremlin took serious offense to the derogatory comment. I wonder if the phone will ever reappear.
I recently received the following advice in an email. Not all of the advice is 100% valid, so I have added some caveats or suggestions, where applicable:
The next time you order checks have only your initials (instead of first name) and last name put on them. If someone takes your checkbook, they will not know if you sign your checks with just your initials or your first name, but your bank will know how you sign your checks.
(This was actually listed on the Illinois Legal Aid website.) Bank employees are highly unlikely, given the volume they process, to verify checks against a signature card. And, many businesses may require that the information on your checks matches the information on your ID.
Do not sign the back of your credit cards. Instead, put "PHOTO ID REQUIRED".
I like this one. Although, I haven't had anyone check the back of a card - or ask me for ID - in a very, very long time. (Perhaps retailers need to reeducate their employees?)
When you are writing checks to pay on your credit card accounts, DO NOT put the complete account number on the "For" line. Instead, just put the last four numbers. The credit card company knows the rest of the number, and anyone who might be handling your check as it passes through all the check processing channels won't have access to it.
Better to leave this line blank and simply remember to include the payment slip from your statement. (Anyone processing your payment at the bank or credit card company, already has access to your account information anyway - truth be told.)
Put your work phone number on your checks instead of your home phone. If you have a PO Box use that instead of your home address. If you do not have a PO Box, use your work address.
Is there, truly, a need to have a phone number printed on your checks? (Not to mention, what if you change jobs?) I haven't written a check in many years, but I don't recall being required to provide that information.
As far as addresses versus PO Boxes: If I recall correctly, there used to be issues with POBs on checks. Then, there's the issue of check information matching your ID. And using a work address takes us back to - What if you change jobs?
Never have your Social Security number printed on your checks. You can add it, if it is necessary. But if you have it printed, anyone can get it.
Again - why would anyone ever provide this information on every check they write? Leave it off.
Place the contents of your wallet on a photocopy machine. Do both sides of each license, credit card, etc. You will know what you had in your wallet and all of the account numbers and phone numbers to call and cancel. Keep the photocopies safe.
Admittedly, this isn't a bad idea. Though you can get the numbers from your credit card statements and the local DMV is in the phonebook. Social Security cards can be replaced online.
If your wallet is stolen:
We have been told we should cancel our credit cards immediately. But the key is having the toll free numbers and your card numbers handy so you know whom to call. Keep those where you can find them.
File a police report immediately in the jurisdiction where your credit cards, etc., were stolen. This proves to credit providers you were diligent, and this is a first step toward an investigation (if there ever is one).
Call the 3 national credit reporting organizations (Equifax, Experian, TransUnion) immediately to place a fraud alert on your name and Social Security number.
Now, here are the numbers you always need to contact about your wallet, etc., has been stolen:
Social Security Administration (fraud line): 1-800-269-0271
The actual SSA information, from their website: (The Social Security Administration will issue a new card, but they will not file a report or take any action regarding a stolen card.)
File a complaint with the Federal Trade Commission (1-877-ID-THEFT or 1-877-438-4338);
File an online complaint with the Internet Crime Complaint Center at http://www.ic3.gov;
Check your Social Security records (call toll-free 1-800-772-1213; TTY 1-800-325-0778) to ensure your income is
calculated correctly; and
Monitor your credit reports.
Equifax: P.O. Box 740241, Atlanta, GA 30374-0241 1-800-685-1111
Don't get me wrong. I understand that people need to work, make a living, and support their families. But - and this is BIG - during flu season, (heck, during any season) if you are SICK and you are CONTAGIOUS -- keep your behind at home and in bed!
Just got back from a quick run to the store. Needed a couple of things - mostly bad-for-you munchies and stuff for sandwiches. A typical run - grab stuff, chat with the cashier for a minute, and head home. Nothing unusual - except for the last comment from the cashier.
My mentioning that Mark (who does most of the cooking) wasn't feeling well, so we were just having sandwiches, elicited a similar health-related statement from her:
"I have the flu!"
Again, I understand that people need to make a living, but she had her (germy) hands all over everything I bought! All over everything that we were going to have to touch to make a quick dinner! I stormed home, in a rage!
You may think I'm paranoid, but with Mark's suppressed immune system - we do not take chances! I ended up wiping down everything I bought and I'm still worried that one of us is going to get sick. It doesn't have to be Mark that gets a cold or the flu to put him at risk. If Frankie or I come down with something, eventually so will he.
So, to all of you who have a fever or know you're actually sick -- STAY HOME! We don't want your germs!
Yesterday, I received an email from a friend that was filled with good, common-sense information. The advice is valuable during any cold and flu season - not just against H1N1. With Mark's compromised immune system, we are probably more careful than most. But it's always a good idea to protect yourself and your family from those pesky, dangerous germs.
Prevent Swine Flu - Good Advice
1. Gargle twice a day with warm salt water or Listerine. *H1N1 takes 2-3 days after initial infection in the throat/nasal cavity to proliferate and show characteristic symptoms. Simple gargling prevents proliferation. In a way, gargling with salt water has the same effect on a healthy individual that Tamiflu has on an infected one. Don't underestimate this simple, inexpensive, and powerful preventative method.
2. Blow the nose hard once a day and swab both nostrils with cotton buds dipped in warm salt water is very effective in bringing down viral population.
3. Boost your natural immunity with foods that are rich in Vitamin C If you have to supplement with Vitamin C tablets, make sure that it also has Zinc to boost absorption.
4. Drink as much of warm liquids (tea, coffee, etc) as you can. Drinking warm liquids has the same effect as gargling, but in the reverse direction. They wash off proliferating viruses from the throat into the stomach where they cannot survive, proliferate or do any harm.
I would also add:
Wash your hands frequently. Regular soap and warm water are usually sufficient. (Overuse of antibacterial soap can actually create more problems than it cures.)
Sneeze or cough into your elbow. Those germs won't transfer with a handshake.
Keep your hands away from your mouth, nose, and eyes. These are primary points-of-entry for cold and flu germs.
Frequently wipe down commonly touched items - mouse, keyboard, TV remote, refrigerator, door knobs, telephone, etc. - with a damp cloth and mild bleach water.
There's no need to be crazy about it, but a little common sense can go a long way.
Democracy is when the indigent, and not the men of property, are the rulers.
Aristotle
I don't make jokes. I just watch the government and report the facts.
Will Rogers
A conservative is a man who just sits and thinks, mostly sits.
Woodrow Wilson
If voting changed anything, they'd make it illegal.
Emma Goldman
If we desire respect for the law, we must first make the law respectable.
Louis D. Brandeis
It is enough that the people know there was an election. The people who cast the votes decide nothing. The people who count the votes decide everything.
Joseph Stalin
It is not in the nature of politics that the best men should be elected. The best men do not want to govern their fellowmen.
George MacDonald
If we don't believe in freedom of expression for people we despise, we don't believe in it at all.
Noam Chomsky
A conservative is a man with two perfectly good legs who, however, has never learned how to walk forward.
Franklin D. Roosevelt
A conservative is one who admires radicals centuries after they're dead.
Leo Rosten
In this world of sin and sorrow there is always something to be thankful for; as for me, I rejoice that I am not a Republican.
H. L. Mencken
Inflation is as violent as a mugger, as frightening as an armed robber and as deadly as a hit man.
Ronald Reagan
Instead of giving a politician the keys to the city, it might be better to change the locks.
Doug Larson
Always vote for principle, though you may vote alone, and you may cherish the sweetest reflection that your vote is never lost.
John Quincy Adams
An election is coming. Universal peace is declared and the foxes have a sincere interest in prolonging the lives of the poultry.
T. S. Eliot
An idea not coupled with action will never get any bigger than the brain cell it occupied.
Arnold H. Glasow
Bad politicians are sent to Washington by good people who don't vote.
William E. Simon
Conservatives define themselves in terms of what they oppose.
George Will
Democracy is being allowed to vote for the candidate you dislike least.
Robert Byrne
I am a child of the 70s - the early ones. Graduated from high school in January 1974, I am a child of the era of - among other things - Hair Bands and the early days of Aerosmith. I knew Def Leppard, before the drummer lost his arm.
Today, because we both love music, Mark was channel surfing the radio looking for fun stuff - and ran into a plethora of cover bands. I didn't know that it would become ewwwww!! and Ewwww!! and Ewwww!!
The music was good - really good, in some cases - good enough to fool us into thinking we'd found a station that was playing the music we'd grown up with. Then, just when I started whirling around the living room in pure joy ... The voices! Oh, Lord! Oh, Heaven! Oh, NO! Ewwww!
Don't get me wrong, not all cover bands should be shot at dawn. For months, I followed a cover band from venue to venue. They were amazing! (Jim and Anna - I haven't forgotten you.) But they had this drummer who ...
while Prince was singing about odd colored rain and crying doves ...
He looked the part and - I was at the Purple Rain concert in Detroit - had a voice that was just as amazing!
Yet, today, people who have far less vocal talent are getting radio play.
My 'personal relationship' with the Kennedy family began the weekend after / of my 7th birthday. When our birthdays fell during our mother's work week, we celebrated over the weekend. The year that I turned 7, my birthday fell on a Wednesday. That weekend saw the funeral of our 35th president.
After all these years, I remember standing in front of a small black-and-white screen. I remember a riderless horse and a flag-draped coffin. I remember 2 very young, very small children watching the passing of this box that held their father's body. I remember my heart breaking and tears rolling down my cheeks. This was the first death I had experienced in my young life; it left a mark.
Less than 5 years later, I would watch in horror as Robert Kennedy died in a hotel kitchen. (Technically, he died a day later, after extensive surgery at a Good Samaritan Hospital in Los Angeles.) I couldn't believe that another son, another promising life, had been taken from this family. It just seemed too cruel. (I would quickly develop a dislike for the father who, in my opinion, pushed his sons into the political life to which he had aspired in vain. And don't get me started about what he did to Rosemary!)
It wasn't long before the youngest son made headlines.
Chappaquiddick and Mary Jo Kopechne - the event killed a young woman, a presidential career, and perhaps, a father. (Joe Sr.'s death, almost exactly 6 years after John's assassination, less than 18 months after Robert's, and 4 months - to the day - after Chappaquiddick, made me wonder if his heart had simply broken with the knowledge that no other Kennedy would sit in the Oval Office during his lifetime.)
Projecting what many of us felt at the time, I hoped that Ted wouldn't seek presidential office. The Kennedy sons seemed to wear a bullseye, borne of a strong belief in social justice, equality for all citizens, and - most dangerously for John and Robert - the destruction of the mafia. They were fighting an uphill battle against powerful organizations.
To this day, I wonder if Ted Kennedy's problems with alcohol and women weren't a subconscious way of making himself a smaller target. Although the plane crash in 1964, as Mark reminds me, could have been an object lesson - long before 'they' got to Robert. Who knows?!
Even after his father's death and the death of that pressure to please Joe Sr., Ted sought the presidency. Much has been made of his hesitant answer to the question "Why do you want to be President?" Yet, the tape of the conversation belies much of that:
It's easy to admire Ted Kennedy for his vote against the Iraq War. But those of us of a certain age, as it were, won't forget his work to pass the Civil Rights Act of 1964, the Voting Rights Act of 1965, the 1990 Americans With Disabilities Act, the 1993 Family and Medical Leave Act and the Kennedy-Hatch law of 1997. Ted had his hand in the establishment of OHSA, as well.
I am sad to watch the passing of the last son of Joe and Rose. Yet, I am happy to have grown up in 'his time' and to know that Edward Moore Kennedy - of all his brothers - "lived to comb grey hair."
One thing I like about living in Arizona is the lack of bugs. In fact, I can't remember the last time I saw a fly, and mosquitoes are virtually non-existent in every day life. There are bees, wasps, and scorpions, but we (personally) don't tend to see them.
You can imagine my surprise when I happened to catch movement in the kitchen light fixture last night. Expecting a nasty, yucky, evil critter, I crept closer only to find that our visitor was a very, very, very tiny lizard. Seriously! It couldn't have been much over an inch long (not counting the little tail) and was almost transparent. Looking up from below, I'd have sworn I could see through it.
Assuming it had wandered in to get out of the storm, we figured it would wander back out the same way and proceeded to ignore it, in favor of our steak and wild rice dinner. Well, we were wrong. We finished dinner, did the dishes, and were in the process of making popcorn several hours later, only to find that our guest was still in the light fixture.
A quick tap on the cover didn't elicit much of a reaction, so we decided that 'Lizzy' wasn't doing well and needed a little human assistance. Our first mistake!
In a comedic turn worthy of the Three Stooges, Mark loosened the plastic cover while I held a large bowl under our visitor. 'Lizzy' dropped out of the fixture, into the bowl, and expressed its lack of appreciation by jumping right back out! I got a hand under it, briefly, while the little thing continued to jump and fall.
Landing on my pant leg, it seemed quite happy. Although in hindsight, the poor thing was probably in shock. I mean that's a huge fall for a one-inch body! It was even rather cute, poised just below my knee.
Nonetheless, I really wasn't into wearing a lizard on my sweats, so I - again - attempted to scoop our friend up. Zoom! Zip! In a flash, it was gone!
With a lot more energy than it had just displayed sitting in the light, 'Lizzy' took a flying leap off my sweats, only to land between my toes! Now there's a feeling you don't experience every day! Not to mention, the impulse is to squeeze your toes together - not at all in the best interests of an itsy, bitsy lizard.
Another attempted grab and 'Lizzy' was scurrying across the kitchen floor toward Mark. Man! that baby could move! This was just not going well, at all. I was beginning to envision several hours of chase-the-lizard in my future.
Finally, while Mark avoided squashing our little buddy - who had developed a definite foot fetish and was trying desperately to get to Mark's toes - I snuck up behind the lizard and managed a quick scoop. Gently clasping my hands together, I cheered my victory! Woohoo!! Mission accomplished!
Now what?!
Although skilled, I couldn't exactly open the door with my feet. Mark, doing battle with the light fixture (amazing how those things come off in a flash, but it takes a team of engineers to get 'em back on!), looked at me like I had asked him to fly. Then, standing in the middle of the kitchen with my hands wrapped around a strange creature, it occurred to me to wonder if our little friend was prone to biting. I mean, tickling my toes was one thing. Biting my hand? Oh, hell no!
As it turned out, I didn't have to worry. Mark took pity on me, put down the light cover, and opened the door. Rushing along the walk, down the stairs, and toward the grass, it didn't occur to me - until I hit the gravel - that I had no shoes on! (I don't know which hurt more - running onto the rocks or trying to stop.)
Oh, well. The damage, hopefully minimal, was done and I still had a baby lizard in my hands. Leaning over the nearest rock, I lifted one hand. 'Lizzy' didn't move!
"Sure! Jump all over my kitchen and now - outside, where you belong - you want to sleep in my hand! I don't think so!"
Feet throbbing and attitude deteriorating, I tried to remember that the poor little lizard had had a much worse night than I had. With my hand tipped toward the rock, I waited and 'Lizzy' got the hint. Leaving him/her to explore, I hobbled back up the stairs.
Like most people I know, I love getting mail. No longer! I now hate - with a passion - looking in my inbox.
Thanks to these spammers/ spoofers/ friggin' jerks, I wake up every day to at least 200 new delivery failure notifications. And, despite reporting the IP address, they just keep creating new websites, with dozens of subdomains - all pretending to be JMark Afghans. In the words of Queen Victoria: "We are NOT amused!"
If I weren't so busy trying to quantify and report all of this, I think I'd just sit down and cry. Or perhaps screaming would be more effective.
I went shopping today. (You're shocked, I know.) But, really, it had to be done. Mark needed test strips for his glucose monitor.
While wandering toward the pharmacy, I just happened to notice {wink, wink} the 75% off sign. They're probably still scrubbing the skid marks off the floor. But, seriously, 75% off! is not to be lightly dismissed. And it was summer sweats and PJs!
Unlike the stereotypical work-at-home schlub who wanders to the PC in pajamas, I do get dressed every morning (or whatever time of day I finally roll out of bed) in something that some people might actually wear in public. Hey, I even brush my hair - at some point in my search for caffeine and the computer. Sweats - especially lightweight sweats - are critical to the success of this process.
Okay, back to the sale: I'd found the deal. Now I had to find something that fit. Not easy, when you're 5'11" and most of that is legs. It becomes even more of a challenge when you realize that the 'standard' sizes in our area are somewhat ... munchkin. Must be the heat; shrinks everything.
Years ago I bought several tops and dresses in my normal medium, only to find that medium is an extremely relative term. It is, apparently, equivalent to size 10-12 in Michigan and size 3-4 in Arizona. I'm still hoping to regain function in my left shoulder after trying to put on a tank top I bought 3 years ago. (At least I can feel my fingers again and my eyes aren't popping out of my head anymore.)
Given my experience with clothes here, I figured extra-large would be just about right. I even managed to find a great pair in black with a white stripe down the side, in extra-large. A happy camper, I made my purchase and went home.
Now, Mark and I will be going camping in a few weeks - and we'll be sleeping in my sweats!
Sometimes all you can do is shake your head . . . and laugh!
There was a knock on our door earlier, which is quite uncommon for us. (We tend to discourage drop-in visitors.) I opened the door to a young man I had never seen before.
He asked for someone I'd never heard of, so I made the natural assumption that he was looking for one of the former residents of our new apartment. I assured him that his friend wasn't here. This was when the conversation became amusing.
Straight-faced and serious as a heart attack, he then stated "So, nobody lives here?"
I was completely dumbfounded! It actually took me a few seconds to process this comment! Was I invisible? Did he have vision or hearing problems? He didn't look overly confused.
Regaining my composure, I looked him straight in the eye and pointed at myself and Mark, who was sitting at the computer ignoring the entire exchange. With all of the confidence I could muster (trying desperately not to laugh out loud), I assured this young man . . .
This is an open letter to all of my mothers - be they natural, adoptive, or mothers-by-marriage:
To all of the beautiful women who helped raise me and 'grow me up' and despaired of my ever creating (from scratch) a pie crust that wasn't laughable - or worse - toxic . . .
I MADE AN EDIBLE PIE CRUST!!
I finally did it! I read the directions in the cookbook, I didn't overcompensate, and I didn't overwork the dough. I did - however - forget to prick the sides of the crust (I'm making a chocolate cream pie and needed to 'blind bake' the crust), so it's a tad puffy around the edges.
At this point, I just don't care! The next one will be closer to perfect - I'm just thrilled that this one is going to be edible! At 52, I finally have hope!
PS: One of my favorite clerks at the corner store even wants a piece!
I shouldn't have mentioned that we had happy appliances. It was just asking for trouble. And, sure enough, it happened. The refrigerator in the new apartment decided to leak all over - inside and outside. We got that replaced and counted our blessings.
Then, the oven decided to develop an attitude. Actually, a pretty serious attitude! Due to airflow problems, when we turned on the oven it didn't heat properly. If we opened the door to check on what we were cooking, there would be a rush of air - Boom! - and the oven would light. Not exactly safe, ya know?!
When it blew the door open and scattered black sooty mess all over the kitchen, we determined that we should have the complex replace it.
To make a long story (aren't they always) short, we got a replacement stove - at the end of the day, in the middle of a rainstorm. The burners worked, but the pilots wouldn't stay lit. We didn't even try the oven. It had been a long, difficult day and we'd both had about enough. We decided to worry about the pilots the next day.
Well, the pilots didn't work the next day, either. In frustration, I pulled the top off the stove and started to investigate. Imagine my surprise when I found electronics! Grabbing a flashlight, I took a quick look behind the stove and, not surprisingly, found a power cord.
It seems our maintenance man just tucked it behind the stove and, even though the pilots wouldn't light, didn't feel the cord was important enough to mention. Perhaps where he comes from all stoves have tails!
Over the years, living in our old apartment, things started quitting; stopped working. Many of the problems could be traced to a teenager who hated cleaning the apartment and himself, so he tended to abuse the vacuum, mop, broom, shower ... you name it. We didn't let him dust the furniture, because we didn't want our bric-a-brac damaged.
Well, since we've moved:
The vacuum on/off switch works again.
The vacuum 'bag full' indicator works.
The carpet shampooer works again.
The shower faucet works.
So . . .
The only conclusion I can draw is that even our appliances are happy to be in the new apartment! I know that we're thrilled with the 'new' TV, too - the one we found under all of the dust. (Mark insisted on cleaning it years ago, but I just didn't think it was a good idea to take apart expensive electronics and apply cleaner. Boy, was I wrong!)
Okay - we are moved in. It happened, despite my cynicism. Things got put away; beds got made; floors got cleaned. Life was good.
Then, in a moment of unanticipated delirium, I thought it would be a great idea to invite a couple of our friends for dinner and fun. I even stepped aside when Mark determined to choose the menu! What was I thinking?!
Well, I didn't think it would actually happen. In fact, I would have bet money (if I had any extra) that I would never, ever get everything put away. But, I would have been wrong.
Finally, after two weeks, the closet and pantry and living room and bedroom are organized! Yay! Hooray! All things have a home and are in their little homes. I have made a vow - a solemn vow - due to the pain in my feet, legs, and back to never, ever move anything again.
Not within a room. Not from room to room. And, most importantly, not from apartment to apartment.
They will carry me out feet-first before I move again! And that's the truth!
I hope everyone had a happy and safe Fourth. Our day was terribly uneventful - until Frankie showed up! Great surprise for us.
Spent the day doing laundry and trying to cook - around, over, and on top of the washing machine.
We have an apartment-sized washer and dryer, which is tremendously convenient and much, much cheaper than the laundromat. However, since the washer hooks up to the kitchen faucet, not much else gets done when it's laundry day. And, for some unknown reason, the dryer compartment is smaller than the washer tub?!
Not usually an issue, until we get to the throws for the recliners or the comforters on the bed.
They fit just fine (okay, the comforter fits just barely) in the washer and even get really nice and clean. However ... after stuffing, shoving, pushing, pulling, and screaming, they just don't fit quite as well in the dryer. Which means that every 15-20 minutes they need to be completely removed, fluffed, adjusted, and restuffed, shoved, pushed, and screamed back in.
And people wonder why I'm cranky after the laundry is done!? Sheesh!
And, sadly, we managed to enjoy one of our newer Turkey-day traditions, again this year ...
