Scratch one large bird.

I think I've achieved an optimal Thanksgiving. Absence of travel and non-immediate family was a nice change.

This morning: took the Wendling to Lincoln Beach (his choice) to throw rocks in the water so as not to waste a non-cold sunny day. He didn't even get wet and sandy, and told me he wanted to go much earlier than expected because he was hungry. (I was even hungrier because I randy puppy this morning.) Go figure.

This afternoon: walked Her Puppiness as usual and was treated to the sort of sunset that makes me wonder why painters and photographers of landscapes even bother trying. A color scheme that at first glance is Miami Vice but with a scale, detail and subtlety that nobody in Hollywood has ever comprehended.

You know, as much as I complain about Her Nibs, her cooking kicks large quantities of ass. Everything was yummy. Not just all right, yummy. We inflicted our strange western food on our Chinese guests, and they didn't seem at all repulsed or ill. I have a nagging suspicion that we didn't ply them with enough alcohol; is that goyish guilt? The Wendling was obviously bored and lonely, but didn't behave badly considering. Extra post-tuck-in hugs for him. And only an hour of cleanup!

Oh yeah: I'm proud of myself for finally making it to the Mercury on a weeknight. Drinkies, talkies, dancies, and eye candy, all of which are very high on my priority list, as any regular reader knows. Her Nibs would have dug the 80's music. It's just the ticket for people who are about to be kitchen slaves or cooped up with family