It's nice to have food left but I'm not sure we're going to have a place to put it all. I ate sparingly of many things yesterday and had even fewer of those things that I know are not good for me. I stayed at arms length away from the mashed potato's, butter, white rolls, and sweet corn. I bellied up to some food stuffs that I have historically taken a shine to including stuffing, gravy, and choice gelatinous slabs of dark meat from the underbelly of the 14lb turkey that we provided for the get-together. I drank generously from a tall glass of pulpy orange juice and that satisfied any and all urges I might have had for something sweet and sassy. At a table equally divided amongst people drinking water and people drinking chocolate milk, I was in the minority but not feeling at all left out. By the time the pumpkin pie was served, I had no trouble whatsoever in having some very nice coffee ice cream with my pie and whipped cream. Evan ate heartily as well which is not his custom and he couldn't lay down fast enough when all was said and done. We suggested to him that he might want to consider purging the lot and coming back for more. Why should people with Bulimia have all the fun? Even today, Nancy complains that she had too much to eat. One thing that we didn't do was to give thanks. Then again, we never do. That doesn't mean we're not thankful.



Evan left me a note on the kitchen table the other day that read as follows: "Yo Homes, Going to Noah's, chillin'. Be back later. Hit the cell. All of which was followed with a drawing of a little heart followed by the word, "you". What are we going to do with that boy? As I sit here on a rainy day typing up a storm one key stroke at a time, I know he's at the mall because we "hit" his cell and he told us so. This is after a full day yesterday, a sleep over last night, and then on the mall for god only knows what today. I know he was very keen on doing something on Black Friday but he never expressed anything explicitly with me or his mom. He didn't ask for a ride. He didn't ask if he could go there with friends. He didn't ask squat. So I guess we'll see. Understand that he has our money spending genes, which is to say he has a hard time spending it even when he has it. I guess that's preferable to having it burn a hole in his pocket. If the worse thing you can say about our boy is that he's frugal, I can live with that. And then there are those timeless words offered up by Robert Frost, "And miles to go before I sleep. Miles to go before I sleep."

When it all starts to catch up with me perhaps as soon as early this afternoon, I will do what my other family members do less well but wish they could. That is to say, I will take a nap. I've always fancied a nice nap although I suspect early on in life it was an escape mechanism more than anything. I have a very clear recollection of being at my grandmothers house and laying down on the swinging couch on their porch with eyes closed while she ran her nicotine stained and knotted fingers through my hair at the temples until I fell fast asleep. She knew me well enough to know that sleep was indeed a refuge from life for me and she did what grandmothers do best. She did everything possible to assist me on my journey. While no longer an escape, it is a place that I am comfortable with and a place with which I have a history. You can't put a price on that. Not even on Black Friday.