To American chiffsters and best wishes to all abroad. It’s a decent holiday and puts me in a place where I truly consider what I am thankful for. And certainly, I appreciate you knuckleheads a lot. Where would I surf without you??
I also want to thank you all, Dale most of all.
And of course I want to thank god, my family and the academy for…
sorry, wrong forum.
Time for much pie and gratitude! 
Best wishes to all!
Gee, I just love threads like this. They just fill me up with love of community and a strong desire to see world peace in my lifetime. 
djm
Anyone who puts a heating pad for his cat in front of the heater can’t be all bad .
Which reminds me: I have to rouse myself and take Mubu for a walkies. She’ll yow and ick and mutter at me until I do.
Happy Thanksgiving all.
(Pssst. Anyone wanna work my 2200-0600 shift for me tonight? It’s just babysitting servers stuff.)
If I had read this thread earlier I would’ve said no then too.
How do you take her for a walk? Does she wear a harness or do you push her in a stroller? Or does she just stick with you? This is your kitty, right? The one that likes baked beans. On a toothpick.
Yes, my kitty. I fit her out with a little red harness and a lot of rope that I can play out in case she wants to run a bit. Usually she just pads around the apartment grounds, sniffs at the same old yew-bush (which I can’t figure out as I can’t detect a fragrance from the needles), and eats some grass and pukes. On special days she’ll climb a tree part way. Then she’ll see another cat or something else to disapprove of, and decide it’s best to go back in.
I’ve had cats that would stick with me on walks. Mubu wouldn’t be one of them. So, I put her kit on her and follow her around.
Happy Thanksgiving!
I’m grateful for lots of things, but tonight I’m additionally grateful that my mom somehow . . . for the first time in my entire life . . . forgot she’s supposed to worry that I’ll poison everyone with my cooking and agreed to eat at my house. And was pleasant the entire time.
I also discovered that you can, in fact, make mashed potatoes in the microwave. Even if you added an extra “0” to the time by accident and then forgot about it while curling your hair. The . . . chewy . . . bits are easily disguised by stirring in a whopping lot of cream and extra butter, packing the ghastly mess in a baking dish, layering on Gouda cheese, broiling it until it’s toasty, and . . . my apologies, folks . . . calling it “Irish Potatoes.”
“Oh! Just like on Titanic!”
“Yes! Exactly.”
Umm… Irish potatoes just means they aren’t sweet potatoes.
Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
Which I forgot to fix . . . 
They weren’t Irish, either. They were Yukon Golds.
That’s okay, as long as you don’t murder the stuffing … 
djm