It’s the last day of November, Sunday, and it’s Turkey Day at our house. If only for us. After last year’s meltdown (mine) and a fed-up husband (Todd) we decided to dine out for Thanksgiving this year and make ourselves somebody else’s problem.

So free turkey remained in the fridge until this morning, when I somehow rallied after what I will call a “near-miss” of food poisoning from last night’s Chinese food. It’s been an hour and a half (the turkey, that is) and the whole house already smells like roasting turkey and I’m feeling peacefully mellow in this familiar, familial smell.

I spent the night on the couch, up until the wee hours of the morning nursing a vice-like cramping in my gut and running back and forth to the bathroom. Hopefully Todd slept like a baby and was blissfully unaware of the nuclear holocaust happening down the hall. He hasn’t said anything this morning, you know, like – are you feeling alright? So I made a point to tell him I wish my colonoscopy was tomorrow, since I’ve already done most of the work last night.

I call it a near-miss since I consider food poisoning to be a much bigger deal than what I experienced. I had the nausea but by the time I really felt the worst of it I think that food had already made its way past the front door and into the back of the house. I guess I’m grateful that the back door was the way and now I’ve really overshared so I’m sorry but I’m still trying to keep it real. Dianna would want me to. She’d also be mildly sympathetic at first and then follow up with something equally hilarious because if you can’t laugh at yourself, she will do it for you.

So Thanksgiving was “fine.” I made us reservations at Harry’s Savoy Grille in Wilmington on the buffet side. Todd is NOT a fan of buffets, but I assured him that Neph’s grandmother’s memorial luncheon buffet there several months ago was delicious and I figured we’d enjoy the variety of offerings. My mother-in-law declined to join us due to the distance and father-in-law’s unpredictability. Either he’ll be cute, or embarrassing, she said.

The spread was extensive: carved turkey, prime rib, salmon, crabcakes (creamy lobster sauce on the side), mashed potatoes, candied sweet potatoes, gravy, cranberry sauce (the lumpy kind), green salad with red wine vinaigrette, smoked salmon and accoutrements, baked brie, shrimp cocktail, and some other salads I never made it to. Desserts were pecan pie, pumpkin crème brulee, caramel apple cheesecakes, pumpkin pie, a cherry coffee cake, and some other things in little serving glasses I bypassed. The names were fancier than I have shared here, but you get the gist.

It was my one meal for the day and it was literally all I needed. Both of us were stuffed like middle-aged birds with soft muscles and tough skin. Yesterday, however, was a different story. One of our 3 favorite Chinese restaurants. I ordered the spicy tuna roll and wonton soup. And ate a shit-ton of those little crispy things they put in a bowl on the table with duck sauce and hot mustard. And a couple sprigs of Todd’s Szechuan broccoli. (FIL pronounced it brah-COE-lee and I will hereby forever do so, myself.)

The tuna roll didn’t taste bad, but it just didn’t taste like what I’d been craving all day. I blame supermarket sushi, which I eat at least twice monthly. The rumblings began about halfway home and I initially chalked it up to being “off” my current dietary regime over the last two days. WRONG.

Let’s change the subject, shall we?

What else is new in the oversharing category? Well, I’ve completed the fall schedule of wellness appointments, one of which – the rotating boob disk ultrasound – you’ve already heard about. Everything is still intact and I’m good until next year. I had labs drawn in October and learned that my cholesterol level is higher than ever and, though it’s not a contest, I’m higher than two of my coworkers’ too.

This is the second year in a row that I’ve gotten the followup call from the nurse advising me of the things my NP would like me to do, this time offering a statin (hell no, I won’t go), and then telling me to cut back on animal fats and add fish oil supplements. I’m sorry, but this year I snapped back with – I’ve already discussed this with NP. Because I had told her I don’t eat a lot of animal fats and I generally eat a lot of veg and fruits. I don’t want your bullshit, generic dot-phrase feedback.*

Anyhoo, the results themselves motivated me to work harder. I quit drinking after Opac’s birthday, and as of today it has been 35 days. With that is an increase in fiber intake and FOR REAL cutting back on what little meat I ate anyway. I’ve lost almost 7lbs. It should be at least seven after last night but I guess it’s all the fucking sodium I ate on my collision course to porcelain hell.

With the exception of today, I feel great! The changes I’ve made leave me feeling lighter and healthier so there’s that. I don’t miss the alcohol and this is great too. As for the fish oil, I love salmon in all its forms but I absolutely do not want to be belching rancid fish burps or worse … smelling like fish when I sweat (which, admittedly, I do a lot of. Thanks, menopause). SO. I found an algae Omega-3 supplement and I’ve been on them just shy of a month. I won’t know how I’m faring until I run the labs again in a few months.

Working out – I’m working on. Not 5 days a week yet but. Life gets in the way and I know it’s no excuse but I gave myself grace not to make too many radical “resolutions” right away. Destined to failure, that way.

Todd has lost over forty pounds and so it’s helpful to live with somebody who’s also interested in not looking like a beached whale on the couch every weekend. He is forever busy doing something so really, that would never happen anyway. Except when he’s not, and then he walks around the house sighing heavily because, “I don’t know what to do with myself.”

At the risk of repeating something I’m sure I’ve hinted at not too long ago, oh honey I have plenty for you to do. Where do you want to start? Replacing the kitchen tile with the new tile we purchased in 2021? Installing the new porch lights we bought in 2024 that I keep moving in and out of the hall closet to hopefully catch your attention? (Spoiler, folks. It hasn’t worked yet in 10 months.) If those don’t tickle your fancy, how about replacing the bathtub fixtures in our bathroom so I can run a bath? Christmas is coming, my love, and my list is long short.

Ring cameras suck. Just so you know – when the light part blows out, it cannot be replaced. Gotta buy a whole new camera. It still sees and records, but at night it just can’t do a good job. The one on the back deck has been dully flickering like that lone yellow bulb dangling off of a distant barn in some horror movie and the dogs refuse to use the outside stairs to come back inside because of it. First it was Bee and then Shuggie decided she was afraid of the monsters lurking at the top too. So Todd and I strung CHRISTMAS lights around the railing to light the stairs, just so the fucking dogs would come in that way and save us having to go up and down the basement stairs to let them in.

The things we do for them. Bee continues to play food games and she boycotted the dog bowl two meals in a row until the second treat came out for Shuggie this morning. I swear to God she is like having a four-year-old. I show her the treat and point at her bowl and tell her she gets nothing until she eats her food and I’ll be damned if she doesn’t start eating. This is Every. Goddamned. Day.

Friday night when we went to bed she laid down in Shuggie’s bed. Because she is passive-aggressive. And then Shuggie paces back and forth whining like a baby because of this until one of us yells at Bee to get in her own bed. Think I’m kidding? Shuggie lies down immediately in her bed and all is right with the world again.

I’m really trying to write more concisely and with a shorter word count so the read is faster but here we are again at 1500 words. I’m sorry.

One last thing. If you intend to use temporary hair color in the spray can for Halloween or any other occasion, I vehemently urge you to use that shit with your heart but DO IT OUTSIDE. Todd said to me one day a few days after Halloween that we have that pink mildew on the toilet because he wiped it off and the tissue was pink. WHAt?!

This led me to blitzing the bathroom with mildew cleaner and then it dawned on me that it was the RED HAIR SPRAY I used for Halloween that had coated every surface of our bathroom. Holy Shit. Every. Surface.

Okay one more last thing: a dot-phrase is something we use in our electronic medical system that will produce standardized verbiage or message for something. For example, “dot.adult” would generate a transition letter for our 18-year-olds who are transferring care to an adult provider (from pediatrics).

One more one last thing: today’s title is brought to you by the setting on my daughter’s cell phone. I didn’t know this was a thing until I went to text her one day and it said she has silenced her notifications. But – the text is still delivered quietly.

1691 words. Thanks for being here.