Flotsam

“Oh my god,” I said an hour ago, in the car on the way home from Thansgiving dinner, “I still have to write a blog entry.”

Twenty minutes ago, the Actually entered my office to see me sitting with my head resting on my laptop, quietly digesting the bourbon-glazed turkey, the creamed corn, and that last (ill-advised) piece of apple pie.
“I know,” he said, “Take a picture of one of the cats in a pilgrim hat, and post that.”
I raised my head and blinked at him.
“But we don’t have a pilgrim hat,” I reminded him, “and I’m sleepy.”
The Actually picked up a cardboard coffee cup (still containing the remnants of a latte I ordered over a week ago) and waved it at me. “This can be the pilgrim hat!”
“I could make a feather,” I suggested, “for an Indian.”

Unfortunately, a combination of our exhaustion and the cats’ uncooperativeness resulted in this:

But surely it is the thought that counts.
Happy Thanksgiving!