Happy Fangsgiving! I hope your day is going well. I am up to something! That something is bacon-infused bourbon for old fashioneds.

So far I have poured bacon grease into the bourbon, which I poured into a big pitcher first. Then I put it in the fridge overnight, because the pitcher did not fit in the freezer. This was a mistake. The grease did not congeal enough, really. I strained the grease out and bumped the bourbon in the microwave so the fat would remelt, since it was all in separate little globs. I am hoping it makes one big lump this time around. I may have to pick up some cheesecloth when I go out to get oysters.

I am not making Fangsgiving dinner this year, for the first time in eons. I will tell you why, straight up. P. and I had a row last week in which he told me that he was “not really into Thanksgiving and all the trimmings.” This is like telling a devout Catholic that “that Pope guy is okay, I guess.”

It wasn’t really spite that made me pull the plug, honestly. It was more an overwhelming since of “meh.” Why bother? I said this aloud. My feelings were hurt that my dinners that I work three days on with scratch broth and stuffing and the brining…that they were so take-or-leave. FNIF. ~dramatic violins~

“I will just make whatever then, and treat it like any other day,” I said. I had a notion of getting half a turkey breast and just slapping a couple of things together like a normal weeknight.

“I have always thought we should make something besides turkey,” P. declared.

“If it is not a turkey meal, then it is not really like Thanksgiving,” I said. “It is another fancy meal that you can have any day of the year.”

“Oh, well, if you are not going to cook, I will,” P. declared. And it was on like Donkey Kong.

“I think I will make a brisket,” he announced a couple of days after the Incident. I don’t even know what animal that comes from.

“Okay,” I said, resignedly, and with some attempt at actually being supportive. I tried not to think of gravy and cranberry and stuffing. I tried not to think about how much I enjoy planning menus and CHOPPING and getting the timing just right.

A couple of days after that, and it was a different story again.

“I’ve been thinking,” P. said. “It is just not Thanksgiving without a traditional meal.”

“Oh,” I said. “What a completely original thought that I have never heard come out of anyone’s mouth, especially not mine four days ago.”

“Yeaaah. So I am making a turkey.”

And he is. I am sitting on my ass. The world’s gone mad, I tells you.

Also, Halloween pics are finally up, if you’re interested. And Egg and I are podcasting tonight, if you have a last-minute question.