YOU CAN JUSTIFY IT IN THE END

Calm before storm.

The population of the house is way down right now, whereas 24 hours ago, this room was filled with Thanksgiving feasters. Right now, it is just me, Emmylou, Cooder who is assiduously tracking mice in the kitchen, and Albert, who is asleep on the couch in the other room.

The room fills up.

I'm trying to avoid some langorous imbibing of the delish punch that B and K made as their contribution as I gather some thoughts and tend to the turkey soup that is softly simmering on the stove. The rest of the family has decamped off to more celebrating with nearby relatives who were not able to join forces with us last night.

After all those days of fighting fleas, cleaning, laundry, organizing, re-organizing, and cooking, I scarcely know how to have a thought. I went to bed about 10 last night with much of the festivities still in progress. I knew that if I staid up, I would be likely to continue to drink as a means of both unwinding and making myself more comfortable with some folks I did not know as well. The better part of valor seemed to be to retreat to my room to try to get some sleep. But I woke up for about 4 hours in the night, dark thoughts fluttering around the dim light of my mind, and thought watching the rest of Season 4 of Parks and Recreation and the first episode of the second season of Sherlock would be a better, even pleasant expenditure of time.  Thus, the day has been quite lazy and slow for me. I don't think I have been out of the house in two days (need to do something about that). 

Emmylou, by the by, is much better. She enjoyed the table set-up. She and Cooder were shut up in our room for most of the night, as there are some with cat allergies and there was plenty of other underfootness. They had a dead mouse on the floor at the foot of the bed as a by product of their confinement. 

Lots and lots of bad songs trundling through the head these last two days, most notably Bad Moon Rising and Half-Breed. (And by the way, do not skip that link.) M and I watched the American Masters' episode on David Geffen and as the two of them were romantically involved for 18 months, Cher was on my  mind. And walking into my parents' bedroom, seeing my father sitting in his easy chair entranced by Cher is something I have not forgotten in, well, too many years. Another song that was an unwelcome guest was One Tin Soldier. I really thought I should share with you.

We named one of the turkeys Dave in honor of Davids Geffen and Petreus. The larger turkey was Mitt. No one would have considered eating a turkey named after Paul Ryan. 

Cooder has apparently given up on the mouse hunt for the moment, so I could go work on dishes and setting the kitchen back to rights. Or I could just post this and go kick back with some Sherlock. Tomorrow will be soon enough to figure out WTF with Christmas and other life challenging events.

And, on another note, I was successful in not spending any money!

These two shots were my view for much of the day.