You may think that yesterday was all about the pie. But I am not that shallow. Pie is important, but pie ain’t everything. Yesterday was also about the stuffing. And the wine. And the card playing. Oh, and the Kahlua. Mmmmmm.

Huh? What? Oh, sorry. What was I talking about? Oh, right. Yesterday! Yesterday was about being thankful. And I was. I am, actually. I do believe that I am blessed in many ways. And my tolerance of those blessings is vastly increased by the consumption of alcohol. So.

A sampling of some of what I experienced yesterday:

Friend’s Husband: Yeah, so I read this study that said that after a divorce, men will look for women who are the same age as the women they dated before. Like, if they got married at 25, and they’re 50 now, they’ll still go for 25-year-olds. Because in their minds, that’s the age women they’ve always dated.
Me: I’m sure that has nothing to do with 25-year-old women being smoking hot. It’s just that the male brain stops developing at marriage.
FH: Right!
Me: Well, I’m glad we cleared that up.
FH: Now women, on the other hand, after divorce they look for men their own age, because they want somebody who can support them.
Me: *after a prolonged pause where I stare at him in disbelief and mentally double-check the century* I think it may actually have more to do with women being realistic and also hoping to find a man who can tie his own shoes and carry on an intelligent conversation and not talk directly to their boobs.
Friend: *sensing that I am about to commence a feminist smackdown* Honey, I don’t think the supporting thing is really an issue these days.
FH: Oh, well, maybe you’re right.

(I’d thought that was a small victory, but late last night–in retelling this story to a male friend–I was informed that “plenty of 50-year-old men still talk to the boobs” so that just made me wish for more Kahlua. Also I took a brief break to go torch all of my push-up bras. Alas.)

Later on, the kids called me, and I chatted with them while four of us continued playing cards. Until the rest of them were laughing so hard at my end of the conversation that the game had to be suspended.

Me: Hi sweetie! Happy Thanksgiving! How was your day?
Monkey: Ham ham ham ham ham ham ham!
Me: Did Daddy make ham for dinner?
Monkey: Ham ham ham ham ham ham ham!
Me: Can you say anything except ham?
Monkey: Ham ham ham ham ham ham POTATO!
Me: Okay, did Daddy make potatoes?
Monkey: POTATOHEAD!
Me: You’re a potatohead?
Monkey: No, YOU are!
Me: I’m a potatohead?
Monkey: Yes! Ham ham ham ham ham ham ham!
Me: Okay, well, um, this is fascinating, but could you please either talk to me or give the phone to your sister?
Monkey: I talkin! HAM!
Me: Monkey, honey?
Monkey: Yes, Mama? I mean, yes, Potatohead?
Me: You are a balloonhead. I love you.
Monkey: Help! My balloon head is floating awaaaaay!
Me: Okay, float the phone over to your sister, please.
Monkey: ByebyeIloveyou!

Chickadee: Hi, Mama!
Me: Hey baby, did you have a good day?
Chickadee: Yep. We had ham.
Me: Ham, really? I had no idea.
Chickadee: Yep. It was yummy.
Me: Did your tooth come out yet?
Chickadee: Nope, not yet.
Me: Have you been working on it?
Chickadee: No… you told me not to!
Me: Well since when do you listen to me?
Chickadee: Very funny, Mama.
Me: So whatcha gonna do tonight?
Chickadee: I dunno.
Me: Well… whatcha gonna do tomorrow?
Chickadee: I dunno.
Me: Well that sounds like fun! Okay! I’m gonna go, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?
Chickadee: Okay, Mama. Mama?
Me: Yes, honey?
Chickadee: Did you call Monkey a balloonhead?
Me: What? No! I would never do that! Happy Thanksgiving, sweetie! I love you!
Chickadee: Mama, your nose is growing. I love you! Bye!

And later, at home… my phone rang with a number I didn’t recognize.

Me: Hello?
Her: Happy Thanksgiving!
Me: Happy Thanksgiving to you!
Her: Did you have a good day?
Me: Yep, it was great. How was your day?
Her: It was good!
Me: Great!
*In the ensuing pause, we simultaneously realized that the “keep ’em talking to figure out who the hell it is” ploy was not going to work.*
Her: Ummm… is this Sue?
Me: Nope!
Her: Lynn…?
Me: I’m pretty sure you have the wrong number, because I have no idea who you are. Wanna tell me what number you dialed?
Her: XXX-XXX-XXXX
Me: Yeah, you were one row off in the middle there. But, hey, happy holidays!
Her: You too! Thanks!

See, that friendly wrong number left us both laughing, and in so many ways was a fitting end to the day.