Post #490 . . . Sorry to learn that Dale
Guanowsky has passed away. He was a well-known and well-liked bartender in town. He, his mom and sister were frequent shoppers at The Bare Wall . . . The Subway at Third and Forster was held up by an armed black man last evening about 7:30 . . . Had an e-mail about the rates at the Shire-Max Inn in
Provincetown after yesterday's post. Management informs me that rates change according to season or special activities in town; they ask that you call for quotes . . . The visitor counter below resets every evening about 8 p.m. to suggest a weekly total of "hits" . . . That
TripAdvisor site that we had some fun with a few weeks back is now being sued by hotels which got unfavorable reviews from customers; they want the "bad" reviews removed . . . Received more "Twelve Coffees Around the World" collections; the title tells it all. It sells for $17.50 and is quite popular with our clients. A smaller six-pot version sells for $8.75 and would make a wonderful hostess gift during the holidays . . . David Morrison reported on
FaceBook that he had just seen the great old 1930s musical "42
nd Street" and that he was ready to "Shuffle Off to Buffalo," one of the featured production numbers. It is a terrific film and if you watch that particular segment you will hear Ginger Rogers sing one of the song's later verses. She almost sings "belly" but quickly changes to "tummy" which of course is not the necessary rhyme. The word belly was considered obscene in the '30s and there were apparently a lot of chuckles in the audience when it almost slipped out--accidentally, of course. It was Mae West whose antics and clever turns of phrase brought about the Production Code back then. Knowing Mae, she would have said
belly with puckered lips and a twinkle in her eye . . .
ike to eat.) On Wednesday evening I prepare a special ham dinner for Ronn and me. (Ronn does not eat turkey!) . . . Then, on Thursday, I go up river (not over) and through the woods to my brother and sister-in-law’s house where the entire family congregates. I’m loaded down with a cooked ham (a different one), my own frozen corn, and ranch dressing crackers. When I arrive, Jacquie, my sister-in-law, has taken the turkey from the electric roaster and Dave, my brother, is cutting the turkey with his lethal looking electric knife, putting it back into the roaster to keep warm . . . Others arrive loaded down with various foods. After a flurry of last minute preparations, we all sit down at one big table groaning with food—ham, turkey, mashed potatoes, candied sweet potatoes, three kinds of stuffing, two vegetables--to name a few. Dave says grace and then we eat and eat . . . We tease Jerry, my niece’s husband, not to mistake the salad dressing for gravy and pour it over his potatoes and stuffing as he did one year . . . Then it is clear the table and load the dishwasher for its first of many loads . . . and on to dessert—pies, cakes, cookies, and usually something gooey and extremely fattening. No one has any room for dessert, but we eat anyway . . . Now it’s football/nap time and tales of hunting—after all, deer season begins Monday—all under the watchful eyes of those deer heads staring down on us . . . By mid-afternoon when I have burped enough to be able to walk, Trish, my niece, and I along with any young kids who want to tag along, go out into Dave’s woods to collect greens for holiday decorating. By the time we get back from our trek people are thinking about eating again . . . There is nothing better than cold sliced stuffing slathered with cranberry sauce and topped with sliced turkey. There is a lot of “I can’t eat another bite,” but we do. Then we help clean up a bit and begin heading home with the admonition to watch out for deer . . . This is MY Thanksgiving . . . 
