It's Thanksgiving

People singing ... it's Thanksgiving ...

This is an excerpt from a horrible song. It's a song that the kindergarteners sing, every year, and every year they pratice it over and over. If you are fortunate enough to hear this, you become permanently associated to the song. The mention of the holiday will send your subconscious voices into the reprise, "people singing ... it's Thanksgiving ..."

Of course I can't remember a single other word. Not too different from most of the kindergarteners! And this year I thought I was OK. I had the song in my head for a day or two, but it wasn't too bad. What happened? As I walk into the All Purpose Room, I see a line of pilgrims. And what are they singing? Yep.

So we have a turkey. We have a turkey, cranberry sauce, potatoes, and broccoli. I forgot to get the apple cider, but I didn't forget the Kendall Jackson Chardonnay. Lucky for us, we were out of coffee and Kevin had to be dispatched for an emergency coffee run, which turned into an hour long shopping trip. (Note: have not yet had coffee at 9am)

I also forgot to get salad. Then I thought, with turkey, cranberry sauce, potatoes, and broccoli, do we really need salad, too? The reason I forgot is that the Doll has normally brought salad. Her interpretation of bringing salad is to bring the lettuce in large shreds, and some cut up accoutrements, such as cucumbers and maybe some tomatoes. These ingredients arrive as I am about to consolidate everything else in the kitchen, and I then must find a bowl and mix and ready the salad. In print, it doesn't sound as frustrating as it actually is. If someone is bringing salad, I envision a lovely spread of greenery offset by colors, perhaps with some feta cheese and maybe croutons, covered with a lighgt bit of saran wrap. Like at the pot-luck dinners.

But this year, there is to be no disassembled salad.

But. There is coffee. I smell it.