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Once again Y&H spent Thanksgiving dinner with Mrs. Y&H’s parents, and once again, a magnificent feast was laid before us — roast turkey, oyster dressing, crudites, cranberry sauce, sweet potatoes, green-bean casserole,  rolls, fudge pie, pecan pie, and all the wine we wanted to drink.

As we pulled out of the driveway, fat and happy, here are a few of the things Y&H felt grateful for:

  • That no one wanted to give our beagle-pig mix, Coltrane, the blue juice after he swiped a generous slice of turkey breast right off the dinner table.

  • That Carrie managed to save the sweet potatoes after being called to the dinner table for grace. By the time we blessed the Lord for our bounty, part of our bounty was toast. The marshmallow topping on the sweet potatoes, set to warm under the broiler, looked like dead crickets.
  •  That there are no rules governing the topics of conversation at the Thanksgiving dinner table. Among those up for discussion yesterday: Area 51 (will it be opened to the public?), chimpanzee violence (why genitals seem particularly vulnerable to attack), and parental confessions about their youth (fake IDs and under-age drinking!).
  • That Carrie doesn’t like oyster dressing (the godforsaken celery!), which leaves more of that delicious stuff for Y&H.
  • That Kay and Stuart (aka Y&H’s in-laws) set aside some of the gizzards for a certain misbehaving beagle.
  • That Uncle Hobs willingly suffered a rib injury to defend Y&H’s honor in a barroom fight (or so he explains the malady).
  • That Stuart continues to insist that no one (other than him, of course) has acquired the appropriate skills to wash the dishes yet.
  • That Y&H continues to have the best in-laws anyone could ever hope for.