MY THANKSGIVING IS SHAPING UP TO BE ... INTERESTING

PIGGLY WIGGLY IS SLEEPING OVER 
FOR THANKSGIVING 
and you can tell by the look on her face 
she had absolutely no say in the matter.

Yay! It's Friday! A day I usually reserve for cornholing hopeless romantics but today, in honour of delicious turkey, will devote to cornholing the blessed advent of Thanksgiving instead. 

I'm even more stoked than usual about this festival of gluttony because I've just learned Piggly Wiggly is coming over FOR THE WHOLE WEEKEND AND OMIGOD THIS IS THE REASON CAPS LOCK WAS INVENTED! Her mom brought her down today and we'll be spending the next few days cleaning, cooking, gossiping, watching movies and getting about zero hours of blissful sleep in between eyedropper feedings. 

I'll admit I'm a little terrified about how I'm going to handle the Thanksgiving menu, because not only does nobody in my family like turkey but also my daughter is, by her own admission: "special needs." As she noted in an anxious text: "Maybe we should bring our own schnibbles? We're so annoying: No pork, no mushrooms, no onions, no dairy, no gluten." (And in case you're wondering if my daughter is some sort of Birkenstock-clad, lactose-intolerant hairy-armpitted vegan, no. Piss off. The poor kid is just trying to weed out any and every possible cause of whatever the hell it is that's making Piggly Wiggly's intestines do the writhing dance of death at every feeding. She has my utmost sympathy. Even if it does mean our Thanksgiving dinner is going to taste like arse.) 

I want to give the dear little family a break and having to cook their own food for Thanksgiving while the rest of us chow down on pie and stuffing and bacon-wrapped scallops .... "Mmm, so good! Too bad you guys can't eat a single scrap of it!" ... seems the height of churlishness. And so I am, even as we speak, Googling the most ridiculous phrases, such as "gluten-free pie crust, how the fuck?" and "dairy-free whipped cream, just shoot me?" and of course, Google is delivering on every count. I'm discovering all sorts of hippie-weirdo  recipes that I will never, ever use again, but hey, it's expanding my horizons. I've learned that you can substitute coconut milk for real milk, canola oil for butter, sorghum flour for wheat flour ... and marvelous, I've just realized I'll be making a meal that nobody but Gwyneth Paltrow would enjoy.

Anyway, I have drinking things to do so let me just close by wishing every last one of the poor saps who read this blog the happiest of Thanksgiving holidays. I hope you're surrounded by loved ones and turkey and can tell the two apart. (It's not always easy.) And although I hardly know you, I insist on giving you this little gift to remember me by: a brief riff on food allergies, with apologies to anyone with an actual food allergy, by the late great John Pinette. (Baby girl, this one's for you. I love you with all my heart but this gluten thing? Holy crap.)