Guide Dog Aunt has declared that she's Not Doing Christmas this year. Guide Dog Uncle and assorted of his relations, plus raranax are up at the Tahoe cabin; it's going to be just Guide Dog Aunt, spintherism (younger cousin), Deacon the Lab, Dazzle/Parnelli the Poodle, and me.
Despite this determined and somewhat noble declaration, my aunt has nonetheless impulse-purchased a turkey (a small one), and there will be stuffing as well. She wasn't taking too kindly to the idea of having left-over meatloaf. There's also a wreath up.
("And you have a wreath up," I told my aunt as we were headed out to walk the dogs today. "Re-thup?" she asked. I clarified. 'Thup' turned out to be the past tense of 'thip', I declared, a word from my childhood. This led into a tale of a medicine dropper bulb, a small child's nose, and very delicate and wet cast porcelain items drying, and what happened when the forces of physics acted thereupon.)
There's rain tonight. There's also quite a bit of gusting wind, and that's banging things about outside.
Plans for the morning:
Cornbread will happen, either as or along with breakfast.
Guide Dog Aunt will go out for a morning run with the Poodle, and leave Deacon behind, because Deacon was looking slow and limping a bit this evening at Fort Funston.
We'll start on the stuffing by 1pm.
Bird should go in the oven by 2pm. (We don't want to repeat tonight's meatloaf problem, where it didn't come out of the oven until 9pm.)
After the bird is in the oven, Guide Dog Aunt and I will head off to some park or other and look at deer and bunnies. (Bunneh!)
We must be home before 5pm, as the bird will be coming out of the oven at this time. (Spintherism is of course more competent in the kitchen than I am, but will he be awake and/or there?)
If I know my family, assorted insanity-based hilarity will follow.