With a painfully weighted feeling of remorse and all the binding chains of guilt that go with it, Ms. M. laid on the couch for a straight 24 hours. She did not even make the effort to address the mirror until Saturday morning. It was that bad.

Thursday started out innocently enough with an early morning walk by the lake. Making a concerted effort straight away to compensate for a day brimming with serious excess. We were in a hurry as Ms M. had to pick up a giant batch of wilted spinach and garlic confit from The Firehouse restaurant. I was  wrapped in a dashing bit of polar fleece, jumped in her bag, and we were off.  Ms. M. absolutely loves The Firehouse Thanksgiving day spread. Their BBQ meats are spectacular but today she needed to bring something to impress her newly Vegan BFF. A peace offering to make up for the reaction she had the day before at the official vegan coming out lunch. This would be sincerely appreciated and show Ms M. in a positive halo of support for this new life choice.

We were headed for a quick Firehouse swing by and then to what we hoped would be a Thanksgiving Yummfest. On the ride there, Ms M confided in me while gently stroking between my ears, that the day soon to unfold could actually end up much like the first Thanksgiving. Vegans and carnivores were not in too much contrast and may even be considered more akin to the new world settlers and Indians . Meeting at one large table sharing the same meal. People coming together that are very different bringing morsels of new and strange looking foods. Each side knowing the other could turn on them at any moment.  Kind of exciting really. Lets just hope the Vegans fare better after the dust settles then the Indians did.

At first entering the bungalow, a heavenly aroma  enveloped us and we embraced and kissed through what seemed  a never ending sea of friends and relatives. It wasn’t long though before that same loving embrace turned into an unrelenting galactic magnet that sucked us straight into the kitchen. Family and friends again everywhere trolling in and out gradually making it the epicenter of unabashed chaos. Being of slight stature I was beginning to fear for my own safety as well as for Ms M’s. Pots were boiling, some scolded child was sobbing, people were rushing by. An unsettlingly thin woman was violently chopping a mound of carrots using prehistoric size cutlery. I felt sure this gastronomic weaponry would be airborne any second. We must have been smashed into at least 5 times before Ms M dropped off our massive gift of greens and whisked us both to safety.

Saved by the dinner bell we were all called to take our seats. As luck or by design would have it our place card was next to the BFF. Where was she?
In the rush to get our walk in, get dressed, pick up the take out order and still make  this early dinner, we overlooked one… dare I say PARAMOUNT item on the to do list. PICK UP THE BFF!

This realization did not sit well with Ms M. She ripped through her bag like she had been poisoned and given a 3 second window to locate the antidote. SHE WAS FRANTIC. After her phone bobbed for air she could see it displayed 43 calls from 348-6718. FORTY THREE!! She froze, then slowly reached for the glass of wine in front of her, then the glass in front of the place setting to her left, and  finally the glass placed for the missing BFF to her right. She took a deep breath and made the call.

Turns out the BFF was so upset and so tired of waiting that she traveled down to the lobby of her apartment building. While there, she struck up a friendship with an attractive muralist working on a project for the complex. By another seemingly cosmic balancing twist of fate he turns out to be vegan. Huh, what luck.

Prince Vegan then offers her a ride and in turn she extends a Thanksgiving invite. By the time they take their rightful place next to us Ms. M. is feeling no pain. She begins passionately pleading her case for a BFF pardon. As per an old  family tradition religiously followed Ms. M. never eats a thing before Thanksgiving dinner. It is a strongly held custom that you STARVE yourself until you see the whites of the mash potato peaks along side the holiday carcass. Unfortunately this made for a saturated Ms M after just three glasses of a very fine Pinot Grigio. It was imperative for the BFF to understand why Ms M. stranded her. A mantra ensued of  how she was the only person in her entire world that means ONLY everything.  How she went the extra miles out of her way to bring  a little special something tonight. A fitting morsel to show her true feelings on the prior days vegan announcement. Ms. M. was positive the BFF would forgive her once presented with The Firehouse delight.

It was at just this moment that Grandmother Graham announced dinner had officially begun and after the holiday prayer suggested maybe Ms M could enlighten us all on the gift of 5 giant slabs of BBQ Ribs. An astronomically unfair, unbalanced,  mishap, with The Fireside restaurant pick up. Basically we grabbed the wrong order. The BFF took this as the proverbial straw and while ineffectively trying to make a clean exit, Ms. M. took an unexpected lie down in the front hall.

Wednesday lunch with Ms M., her BFF, Twink and The Mayor.

This is what Ms M calls taking a breather before the storm. It is a traditional pre-Thanksgiving ritual. A tried and true relaxation technique done prior to large family gatherings. The Bff’s pug The Mayor was in attendance as usual. This years coaching on how to get through the family Thanksgiving dinner with your self esteem safely intact was circumvented by a shocking and somewhat frightening announcement. The Bff was going VEGAN.  Ms M was speechless. What exactly did this mean? She could not wrap her mind around the definition of vegan. Wasn’t that tied to some religious cult? How could  Ms M. understand this…  she only just recently found out chicken broth, although not containing any actual chicken meat, could not be considered Vegetarian. Will this change life as they currently enjoyed it? If people find out, will they be hounded by an underground meat promoting secret society. Lets not forget what the Texas Cattle ranchers tried to do to Oprah.   Then all of the sudden Ms M went white and with the passion of some voluminous operatic narrative  blurted. ” You can still drink, right?”

Although assured that their favorite libations would still be part of their lives she was quite worried and still a little upset. Driving home, upon exiting the car the BFF blessed Ms M with the kindest morsel of Vegan news .  She leaned in as she was closing the door and whispered,  ”they say most vegans look at least 10 years younger then their contemporaries….and ALL are thin.”

This update put an entirely different light on the situation and altered the mood tremendously. I could see Ms M mulling this new tidbit of vegan information over with a sweet smile in development slowly graduating to a  full blown happy face by the time we made it home.

TWINK

Had so much fun with Ms M last night as we participated in a highly celebratory gingerbread making event at her BFF’s house. You  just never know what will happen when those two  get together.

Two firsts last night. 1.) Ms M’s first time making this holiday cookie and working with molasses which by the way has a very scary smell. 2.) Also first time drinking cherry flavored vodka. Not the best idea for her on an empty stomach.  Thank goodness they had a bowl of baked pita chips and guacamole on the table.  Ms. M. became quite concerned though when she figured out she had unknowingly  ingested her paper napkin. Nervously shredding it while ravenously eating, yapping, laughing and drinking . She woke this morning with a headache the size of a Montana sky. It occurred to her that very possibly Cherry Vodka was invented by terrorists as a plot to harm Americans.