There was HOT!!! HOT I tell you!!!!
The debauchery of the previous night left us tired and giggly on Thanksgiving.
We somehow assimilated the news of the Nick and Jessica break up into our emotional mind frames, took a few moments to re-balance, and got on with the eating. Oh. The eating. It was lovely.
The fourteen guests were seated around the table at my parents house when someone asked my fluent-in-Spanish seventh and eighth grade nieces (and santa molesters) how to say “Thanksgiving” in Spanish. My sister Molly responded with a hearty “Muchas Gracias!”
We indulged in vast quantities of food and general silliness and slap-happiness. It was a lovely event all together. Madge vocalized her new obsession by excitedly pointing from her highchair to the candle on the table and exclaiming “HOT!” forty seven or fifty times throughout the meal. I suspect her internal dialogue went something like this:
“OHMIGOD!! OHMIGOD!! IT’S HOT!!! HOT!!!! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?? RIGHT ON THE TABLE! THERE IS HOT RIGHT ON THE TABLE! DO YOU SEE IT? HOT! IT’S HOT! RIGHT THERE!! RIGHT THERE!!! I WANT TO TOUCH IT BUT I CAN’T! I CAN ONLY POINT TO IT BECAUSE IT’S HOT!!! RIGHT THERE!!! HOT!!!!!!! THERE IS HOT!! RIGHT THERE ON THE TABLE THERE IS HOT I TELL YOU!!! HOT!!!”
And the icing on the cake: Ernie, the family shelte has finally recovered from his mange / allergies / radiation sickness that left him half bald. Mercifully, Ernie has dog fur covering his nether region once again. He is no longer exposing us all to his bare dog balls. Bare dog balls are just plain gross. Even more so when said bald dog balls are flopped over and swinging back and forth as the mange afflicted dog lifts his leg to his ear and scratch-scratch-scratches yet another bald irritated patch of skin.