If I Get My Way

Today the people will gather and nosh and fress and indulge themselves like oinkers at the home of the SJG. There will be laughter and, if I get my way, unsolicited non-stop praise, along the lines of, "Oh, SJG, this turkey is so delish, I could cry." "Oh, SJG, you topped yourself again." "Oh, SJG, you really know how to spoil us with calories." If I don't get my way, I will solicit the praise. "Hey, gang, how about that turkey?" "Hey, gang, how about those yams?" "Hey, gang, how about some kudos for the hostess, for @#$%'s sake?" If I get my way, there will be no incidents of any kind. No one will hide under the table, crawl across the table, or dance the Funky Chicken on the table. If I get my way, no one will get too drunk on the SJG Spiked Punch and start a rousing game of "Where's The Money Stashed?" If I get my way, someone will say, "Thanksgiving Means Thanks Living," at least twice, if not thrice, because that's really what this day is all about: blessings and gratitude and all that good stuffing it's so easy to take for granted when you're too busy kvetching, no names mentioned. So, as I promised my brother John I'd say: Gobble this, bitches! Happy Thanksgiving! I love you all so much, I'm already full, and I haven't even started eating yet.