It all started simply enough, as, I suppose these things usually do and then quickly and sloppily exploded into its own life force, as, I suppose, these things usually do. A subtle vibrating of my cell phone and that was it. I was lost, irrevocably, hopelessly lost. Only I didn’t know it yet. Up until then my cell phone had only been for, obtusely enough, phone calls. I stared at its tiny frame in complete confusion. Was that a missed voicemail message? Did I change my ring tone? The unfamiliar noise gently prodded me to poke around the menu of my ancient Nokia to see what else lay within its neglected screen. The icons glistened with excitement as my clumsy fingers roughly navigated over them in a desperate attempt to solve the …Read on

If you are wiser and healthier than me, you landed yourself the smarter role of arriving to someone else’s Thanksgiving feast relaxed, excited, clean, and hungry; oblivious of the five-day cooking frenzy lunatics who offer to host the event subject themselves to. Don’t get me wrong, and, please, don’t feel bad here, we beg to do this. Some of those who are sicker than others (I won’t name names), fantasize about it, lying awake months before dreaming of stuffing and basting turkeys, mashing potatoes, and throwing marshmallows on whatever we can get away with. Most of us that fall in this category are the real die-hards that insist on preparing the entire meal from A to Z. It’s kind of like a Bruce Willis meets Martha Stewart. This obsession is a drug and I am brave …Read on