Actually, despite my dire predictions, Thanksgiving wasn't the looming disaster I predicted it to be. Granted, I got really drunk and remember very little of the evening. But the the good thing is I haven't heard any stories about me making an ass of myself either. I also don't remember being barraged with questions about the bar, which was great. If I had to guess, someone probably made the rounds and told everyone in advance that they shouldn't ask me about it, probably in the same way that they would caution each other not to discuss my predilection for PCP in advance of an intervention, if I were so inclined. Nevertheless, not an entirely terrible night. Could have done without the sweet potato marshmallow surprise - have no idea why someone always insists on bringing that disaster in a casserole dish - but the single malt scotch that I so generously helped myself to, was superb.
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