I just couldn't do it, people. I couldn't stuff myself.
OK, let's be accurate. I managed to stuff myself, but on not very much food, at least, by my pre-Weight Watchers standards.
I had a plate--and not a heaping plate--of food. I had some salad, too. I tried all three kinds of pie.
But I discovered that I'm not so much a glutton as I am an alcoholic. Because the food? Much of which I cooked? Was delicious. But what I really wanted to do is stop eating and just drink more wine. Lots more. I've been pretty much holding myself to two glasses of wine a day, usually much less, and there I was, sitting at the table for hours, yet incapable of taking another bite of food. At times like that, drinking heavily starts to make all kinds of sense.
This is what helped, and consider this your Thanksgiving present: a cup of black coffee with a shot of Courvoisier. It seems to cut right through all that food.
Oh, and here's another present, this one in the guise of an amazing insight: people who say Thanksgiving is their favorite holiday aren't usually doing the cooking.
As for me? Thanksgiving is fine. I'm just glad I'm not in the kitchen anymore. Or the dining room. I'm sitting down. Resting. Not talking. And I'm not eating, either.
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