Thanksgiving means turkey and dressing, right?  And we’ve established that cooking for 2-3 days is alotta trouble for a 20 minute meal, right?  So my compromise was to go to a cafeteria and have T & D there.  No muss, no fuss.

UGH!  K put on her blue wig and I tried to hide my teeth, and we attempted to blend in with the old folks at the local Luby’s cafeteria.  OMGosh, the portions they served could have kept Washington’s army at Valley Forge alive for a month.  I didn’t even accept the second side dish that came with it as there was NO way I was gonna eat all that.  My eyes did overpower my stomach, though, when it came to the dessert selection; I chose a small piece of German chocolate cake and K had a small piece of keylime pie.

About half way through we both gave up.  I hate to waste food, but when I could feel food backed half way up my esophogus I knew I’d better stop eating.  I tried a bit of everything, but left a lot, too.  So did K.

Then it got worse.  By the time we got home I swear all that food was beginning to swell up, expanding like a Mentos dropped into a bottle of Coke (Google it).   Even at bedtime we were both still groaning.  K spent half the night walking around trying to digest her dinner, and I’m hoping for a little after-action relief here shortly, if you know what I mean.

No bagle for me this morning.  Or probably lunch, either.  I might be up for a lite dinner tonight.  I hope.  Happy Freakin’ Thanksgiving.

S