On this late morning, Thanksgiving Day, I went to take a pre-emptive, pre-gluttony walk with the dogs. A few others were out, too: staunch, winter-dressed bikers on the bike path and women walking their dogs. Lulu was wearing her coat, due to the cold, which tempered her tendency to flail and flare at dogs we passed. Despite the cloudless sky and the manageably cold weather, plus sun on the face, it took about a half an hour to dissolve a little of my cruddy mood, too boring, really, to go into. Due to this said mood, I had been mulling for a brief time on my walk the subtleties between anti-anthropomorphism and flat out misanthropy. Not feeling up to fiddly mind benders, I pitched it out of my head. Good riddance. Occasionally in the breeze I smelled a ham cooking. TK continued her unending quest for crumbs in the snowy grass. When we got back home, the Hmong family next door had 14 cars parked in front of their house.

Bug, enthusiastically, as ever, is eating his parrot pellets, dipping them in his water bowl. He is, of course, oblivious to the pending nation-wide engorgement festival. He's doing what he loves to do--go in his paper bag and shred some magazines, shake the spare keys in the box in the bag. Lulu's treed a squirrel and is volleying barks at the tree in her terrrier-intense manner. TK thinks maybe it will come down if she just stares at it long enough. Now Lulu's walking on her hindlegs in front of the tree like a circus dog.

I am going to our friends' for the feast of the day, and I plan, as always to fill up on bread. He texted me this morning, Bring your liver and pancreas. This seems reasonable and wise. Wouldn't leave home without them.

On this holiday of thanks, I am grateful for my liver and pancreas, and I hope you are, too. In drastic measures, one can receive a pancreatic transplant, I recently learned. I had previously thought if one ever even thought of touching the organ during surgery the thing just fell apart, promptly eating everything around it with its pre-packaged super enzymes. Apparently, I am wrong. I don't know how it's done, but maybe it's form of magic.



I love my liver, by the way, tremendously, too. God bless the liver and the hundreds of things it does unselfishly every day.

And I wanted to send out a mushy hello to everyone out there. Miss you, love you. And try to take it a little easy on the organs, ok?