Coma

It's been a quiet day, what with coming down from the turkey, the potatoes,three different kinds of stuffing, ham, two different cranberry sauces, yams, grilled asparagus, mixed veggies with tarragon, jalapeno corn bread and the pumpkin and apple pies. As much as I love Thanksgiving, there's a part of me that's always a little ashamed afterward. Thanksgiving is both the best and the worst of American culture: a day to come together and celebrate the bounty of our lives, but also a day to glut and grow fat while so many others go without.

Ken and I had a wonderful time at Rene and Donnie's feast, but by the time we got home, well into our food coma, I barely had the energy to walk Duncan. The temperature had plummeted again (and stayed plummetted all day today) but my belly was full and warm. Before we slipped out I gave Duncan his traditional Thanksgiving meal, as inaugurated by my mother three years ago: dog food covered in shredded turkey with warm gravy poured over the top which he ate in record time. We walked up to the golf course then back down to the dog park at the far end of our complex, but even Duncan seemed to want nothing more than to come home, lay on his back and enjoy the delicious agony of overindulgence.

I gave Duncan and the cats a little more turkey this morning and the lethargy continued. Needless to say, it's been a very mellow day.