This will be the last post before the holiday, because I will be a proverbial one-armed paperhanger until Friday, no, Saturday. I have moved-up deadlines on my writing projects, and my regular news-farming gig continues, because we cover the whole world, and Thanksgiving is not a worldwide holiday (but should be). Plus I have to make a pie and a Waldorf salad (secret ingredient: Cool Whip) and some tasty fresh rolls and that green-bean thing from yesterday. Alan trudged out of the house with one of those “don’t expect me before spring thaw” grunts, which every newshound knows as the thousand-yard Thanksgiving-week stare. I talked to another old newshound yesterday, who wisely took the week off, only to receive an emergency call from the newsroom to inform her one of her sub-editors had an alcoholic breakdown at the morning news meeting, just FYI.
I think all of us who are journalists in the audience can understand how that happens.
But still, I’m taking the time to be thankful, because I am, and because gratitude is a virtue, and virtue is my middle name. Also, because the longer I sit here blogging, the longer I can put off all that crap in the first paragraph.
So let’s get started with just a few of the things I’m thankful for this weekend:
…that my kid had a sleepover last night, and I slept until 9! hours and 22! minutes! into November 21. Virtually unprecedented.
…that it’s finally raining, even though it’s possible the rain will turn to snow and turn all our plans to shit. Still. Water in the streets means water in the lake, and just hearing the pitter-pat of rain on the skylight reminds me of how long it’s been since I heard it last.
…for my web host and great old friend and online guru, J.C. Burns, who has designed and encouraged and hosted and troubleshot this site since January 2001, at a total cost of $0.00 to yours truly.
…for all my great commenters, and for what they’ve taught me about the nature of online communities. I wish we could have some sort of slammin’ party at some equidistant point from all of us, but it would probably be someplace in South Dakota.
…for all the links on my blogroll, many of them tended by writers who daily remind me why the newspaper business is in such a state. (Please, stop before I lose my health insurance.)
Ah, the hell with gratitude. Gratitude is for losers. On to the useful bloggage!
My brother-in-law has used this method to carve the family poultry for years, ever since he saw Bryant Gumbel demonstrate it on the Today show. It works like a charm. Although, for reasons of better stories to tell down the road, you may prefer the comedy-of-errors method:
“One year the turkey took a long time to cook and I went to carve it after about 13 beers,” said Maurice Landry, who lives near Lake Charles, La. “The way I remember it, I bore down to take off the leg and the whole thing went shooting off the platter and knocked over the centerpiece.”
A question often asked in our household: Where would we be without newspapers to remind us to wear sunscreen? I just asked Google to rustle up that other dead-tree holiday staple — how to eat healthy at Thanksgiving. Immediate result: 398. More sure to come.
Detroit’s Metro Times throws bait in the water — 100 Greatest Detroit Songs Ever! — and, as usual, gets it all wrong. Why? There’s not a single song by J. Geils on it, even though the best live album in modern history was recorded here. And you can’t find “Panic in Detroit” anywhere. David Bowie is no local, but it’s a great song just the same.
OK, one-armed paper-hanging must commence. See you back here on Friday, mos’ likely. Happy Thanksgiving!