Sunday, November 27, 2016

Woody'z Amazing "Cold Turkey" Thanksgiving.
I went out yesterday for dinner with an old friend, in Santa Fe. Figuring I'd be back by evening, at least, I left the backdoor ajar so Budreaux could get a nose through and open it if he needed to use the facilities.
Thus arranged, I departed.
The drive was lovely, albeit sparse. The dun of winter lies everywhere. I arrived in plenty of time, and mine hostess and I chatted amiably about this and that, old friends, recent deaths, etc., while she finished the dinner preparations.
I had a beer, and then another, all the while scarfing cheese and crackers. Soon the bird was done, and the side dishes were in their bowls, I carved the turkey, and we commenced to eat.
It was delicious. My pal fixed "her famous" mashed spuds, delicious dressing, and a onion-and-pea veggie side, all of which, in small portions, I consumed avidly. Lately, my appetite hasn't been what it was. I also ate sparingly of the bird because I've had bad experiences with the last two times I'd consumed home-prepared bird.
I thought for a minute it seemed okay, but withing mere moments of my swallowing the last bite on my plate, I was overcome with nausea.
Clutching my mouth to prevent projectile spewage, I stumbled toward the bathroom, but I lost my balance and fell flat on my back and clonked my head on the floor outside the bathroom, and of course I spilled it all, all over myself and the floor. I guess I was out, for a moment, too. I opened my eyes to see my horrified hostess, peering down at me saying, Oh' I'm so glad. I thought you were dead.
It was a mess, which mine generous, patient, immensely kindly and tolerant hostess cleaned up, while I stood, or sat, mainly unmoving,  in shock from the head knock and at my bad 'manners.'
The upshot was that she and I felt I'd better spend the night in her spare room, since the cops were out in their multitudes for the drive home time on both ends and and on the hiway between. It was about 9 when I went to sleep.
I awoke at around 6:30, and left asaqap. I said good bye through the door, again uttered my profound apologies and thanks, and drove back home...where I'd left the back door open, all night. And man, the ol' perrara was muy frio; but Budreaux had made a nice little nest on the bed.
Tomorrow, I'm gonna call a florist and send her some flowers or a pretty plant....

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