Thanksgiving = A Day to Give Thanks

Lo siento, mis amigos. I apologize for the brief yet lengthy lapse in updates; I've been far too busy not writing to write to this blog. But let me assure you, my truancy is only ephemeral; now that the due date is slowly but surely creeping up, I have no earthly desire to be caught in its deadly sortie. With the most minimal equivocation possible, I can say that there is the distinct possibility that this blog will see updates every day this week. Oh joy. There is also the possibility that I may be significantly more garrulous in my forthcoming entries; my quota demands that I put in double the effort posthaste. At any rate, the hour grows late; please allow me to recount the tales of my Thanksgiving before I succumb to the fetters of slumber and listless ennui.

Thanksgiving in the Tinati household is quite the day-long event. My family usually entertains upwards of a certain number of guests, so preparation and cleanup can become quite the sordid affair; dishes and cookery need be continually washed, lest the burgeoning pile of used silverware and platters hinder movement. Unfortunately, my Spanish teacher requested that her students (and therefore I by transitive property) help to prepare the meal and assist with cleanup; needless to say, it touched me to work quite arduously all throughout the day. To begin, I had to help cook the turkey; not to use the argot of a street urchin, I literally had to get "all up in that turkey's grill" in order to baste and excoriate it in a manner most efficient. Afterwards, I had to make the cranberry sauce. It was most unfortunate that it turned out a tad more crimson that usual; it must have been embarrassed when it saw the salad dressing. Get it?

The rest of the night hopefully went without any further incidents. I think the nadir of that day was, as you all should know by now, my feeble attempts at humor. With all of the wit and puns being thrown around at the dinnertable, it was doubtful as to the real identity of the Thanksgiving turkey. And speaking of things that happen to relate to food, I want to end today's recollection of events present and prior with a quote by everyone's favorite Irish playwright. In the words of the great George Bernard Shaw, "There is no sincerer love than the love of food." And how true that is, especially when you physically and chemically are what you eat. The coalescence of man and meal is quite the biological phenomenon; for further details, hail me in the hallway sometime this week. But that's another matter entirely.