The Thanksgiving Weekend is rapidly coming to a close for us here on the west coast, which means that everybody is dreading going back to work tomorrow. Unless, that is, you’re still unemployed like I am, in which case I laugh in your general direction.
All kidding aside, last week was pretty busy for me. I had to take Anthony to the doctor on Monday because he was fighting off a horrible cough, which was later determined to just be a common cold. He’s not coughing too much now and that silence is golden to the ears of Mom and Dad—it’s a parent thing.
But Anthony wasn’t the only sick one around here. Ann also came down with a cough and was also nauseous and lightheaded, so for a moment we thought that Thanksgiving—it was scheduled to be at our place—was going to be postponed. We didn’t want anybody catching whatever was going on around here, especially Ann’s dad who is still recovering from his quadruple bypass surgery. My mom and brother, however, did manage to come by to share the food they had already bought and/or prepared.
That was fine but with Ann down for the day, who would cook the bird?
Me, of course. And not to too my own horn, but it came out pretty damn good. See, we don’t cook it in a traditional way nor do we deep-fry it like some people do.