(Not) Talking Turkey

Felt funny today — the first Thanksgiving in my life (as far as I can remember) that I didn’t stuff myself, or even eat any turkey at all. (Seems like it should be illegal, somehow; I kept waiting for the Men In Black to knock on the door.) With S&E down in New Jersey at a big family feast, I was here all alone, and just had a bowl of cereal and some potato chips. Then went for a walk on the Ticonderoga Drag Trail that starts about a half-mile from our apartment, over to Shelburne Bay and then through the woods, maybe four miles total round-trip.

Only saw three or four people the whole way. And only one of those up close — one woman with her dog — but I decided, as she approached, that in addition to not eating turkey I wouldn’t even speak to anyone all day. So when she said hello, I just kind of nodded my head and grunted (silently). At which point she looked at me like I was retarded, and moved on.

I was honoring my little sister, I guess, who has a thing about leaving town every year on her birthday, and not speaking to anyone all day. One year, in fact, we had a big party for her, in her house, even though she was out of town. And were quite surprised when she returned early and caught us in the act.

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