Post Turkey stress disorder

I love Thanksgiving. By far my most favorite holiday. Only because I love the heaping piles of food. Turkey, taties, sweet taties, corn, stuffing, a greenbean slurry, gravy, mmmm gravy, carrots, pickles, cakes, pies, where does it end. Then you go back for seconds.

Wow! I just knocked out my things to do list already. Before noon even. Took me two hours. The garage looks presentable again. That was the big one I wanted to get done. I also cleared the rain gutters of leaves. Cleaned the little animal’s shitbox. Moved a hunk of furniture around. Now I can kick back and watch the Flyers underachieve again. Noontime drop of the puck seems weird but who am I to argue with a 55” television that beckons me with a HD broadcast of quality hockey action?

The Legend(Hebe) has made the jump into blogdom. He does an occasional entry among others at http://midatlanticcross.com/ . Now, however, Mike has procured his own little slice of bloggerness. Check him out at http://theoriginallegend.blogspot.com/. Maybe he’ll even answer the question of Why do we gloss him “The Legend”. Amy, aka Mrs. Legend, now needs to give us a fresh counter perspective to the couple who are pretty much my closest and finest friends ever. Step up to the plate Amy. JackieBrown.blogspot.com is available for the taking.

Yesterday’s Thanksgiving feast was somewhat uneventful. As I moved in and out of my post-turkey slumber on one of the many fine recliners, I believe one of the dogs pissed all over the floor. Nothing compared to the humping event I spoke of in my prior post.

Now begins the gallop leading up the Xmas. Joy. I entertained the idea of getting out of bed at 4:30AM to hit Best Buy for one of their $379 laptop computers. I would love to get a lapper but purely for lazy reasons. I watch TV in the basement but my PC is upstairs. Being that I am a TOTAL fantasy sports geek I need to periodically check scores and whatnot. You know, to see how my team is fairing 5 minutes into a hockey, basketball, baseball, football, golf, or Nascar event. A lapper would eliminate the need to do all those stair intervals all night long. Needless to say, The Wifey is not impressed with my idea. Maybe Santa can hook me up. Late.