The Stars and the Cookie Jar

The work I put into the truly fabulous holiday feast has me in bed an hour before everyone else, with long-bone pain I can only describe as zesty. Yeah, that's the word with which I'm going. But it's been a good day, and everyone praised the food, and now the silver has been washed and folded away in its wrapping of baize serviettes, the Royal Windsor ware has been hand cleaned, and the turkey has been incredibly skillfully dispatched by Mr. Grenouille, la_rainette's husband.

What is traditionally a very mixed holiday for me* was made happy and successful by the presence of all our marvelous guests. It was nice.

I met luna_k, who is cute enough that she'd better stay away from my woman, and we had chickwriter here to inform us on the latest in pretty pretty man-flesh.

Tomorrow, assuming I can walk, I have to pop into work for half a second and then we get to show the local colour to chaos_pockets and the Rainettes! (Doesn't that sound like a swing band?)

You should have seen my turkey, people. I rocked that twenty-pound chunk of free-range poultry.


*You know, Thanksgiving. The holiday where I was in the kitchen all day and then my mother took credit for the meal. Or the holiday where my aunt threw a stoneware charger at me and it hit my then-girlfriend. Or... meh, you get the idea.