Behold, my fortunate friend, Mr. Turkey.
I'm pretty sure he's sitting on a roost
right this very minute
penning a thank-you note
of depth and heartfelt appreciation.
thank you for not cooking Thanksgiving dinner this year.
I shall live to see another day....
You're welcome, bud.
One good bird spared, in the name of Thanksgiving for one.
You're so very welcome.
While it isn't the classic portrait of the
Great American Gratitude Celebration
here is what my Thanksgiving is going to look like this year:
I'm going to stop at the deli on Wednesday night after work
ask the nice Chinese guys to fill a couple of foam containers
with a bit of Sesame Chicken, rice and a little egg drop soup,
grab a couple of movies from RedBox
and go home to my dog.
While every other person in the entire
United States of America
will be gathered in tastefully appointed dining rooms
around big, food-laden tables
holding hands with their family members
and laughing gaily
like something straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting
I will be sitting home
petting my dog
and watching Harrison Ford
protect his family from terrorists.
That's just the way it is this year.
And I'll probably drink some Bailey's.
Because that's my favorite way to end any good evening.