The Big Day

This morning a coworker of mine is coming over to give me a frozen turkey. Isn't that nice? I wonder if there's a catch?

I plan to take it to San Antonio on Christmas and give it to my mother-in-law. She'll know what to do. She's a domestic goddess, whereas I, looking around the apartment, am forced to admit I'm more along the lines of a domestic Antichrist. If I attempt to cook the turkey myself, it will probably explode and bring the building down in flames, yet still manage to give my entire family food poisoning.

Last night Katie and I went with Margie and her boyfriend to Attic Ted's Christmas party, at Grady and Lauren's house in San Marcos. It would have been a better party if the cops hadn't arrived before 10pm to bust things up. But we did get to hear Attic Ted's new Christmas suite, Immaculate Misconception: Mary's Little Secret. Not for the devout.

The show was noisy, but was followed by a reading of amusing and sad poems and fiction by New York author Mark Wisniewski. The police arrived shortly after his reading was finished, so we good-humoredly blamed the noise on him and went home. He and his wife Elizabeth are absolutely lovely people, though. You don't normally expect to meet New York intellectuals at a backyard party in San Marcos.

But it's all right. I needed to leave early anyway so I could get my place cleaned up for the frozen turkey.