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Time for Wedwand’s 4th annual Thanksgiving Eve address to the nation, or at least the nation of Wedwand supporters. I thank you.

I willingly profess Thanksgiving to be my favorite holiday. It has no pretense. It has no hype. And every year it reminds me to be thankful for what I have.

After speaking with some of you out there, I found that the actual Thanksgiving meal may have some awkward moments when seeing family and friends that you possibly only see once or twice a year, maybe by choice, maybe due to geography.

As a Public Service reminder, this week’s Wedwand, will again provide some valuable tidbits to help you through your Thanksgiving celebration dinner.

Given the current state of affairs, and to keep the peace, it is advisable to avoid certain conversation topics as religion, politics and ‘boy this turkey is really dry’.

If things get dicey, and if it doesn’t involve the diced ingredients of the stuffing, here’s an old “go to” line. “How bout those Cubs?”

Just shout it out and interrupt Uncle Bill’s tirade. For the FIRST time in 108 years this is bound to elicit positive conversation (unless of course some of the guests are from the south side of Chicago or Cleveland). If that’s the case, just humbly acknowledge their differences and act like you knew it would happen. Don’t gloat. Nobody likes a gloater, just like nobody likes a floater in their gravy.

You can add, “You know, this WAS the Year of the Reckoning in sports.”

– in 2016, Leicester City won the English Premier League Soccer Championship for the first time EVER against 5,000-1 odds.
– Ireland’s Rugby team stunned the New Zealand All Blacks 40-29 in Chicago no less on November 6, 2016 for the first win for Ireland over the All Blacks in its 111-year history.
– And just last week, the University of Kansas defeated the Texas Longhorns in football for the first time since 1938. The score was 24-21.

If that fails, you can just mutter, “As God as my witness, I thought turkeys could fly.”

That is bound to prompt some happy chuckles as those who remember reminisce on the 1978 “Turkey Drop” episode from the TV show WKRP. In case you missed the source of that:

Uncle Bill may interject, “Turkeys CAN fly, Goddammit.”

You kindly repond, “Yes, Uncle Bill wild turkeys CAN fly in short bursts at up to 55 MPH.“ Then subtly whisper to Aunt June, “Psst, hide the Wild Turkey 101 Bourbon, Uncle Bill himself is flying right now. And, Aunt June. How DID you get the turkey to come out so juicy.”

So, enjoy the relish and relish the day. And please say “thanks” once or a hundred times and reflect on ALL the things to be THANKFUL for.

Signing off with the Wedwand Thanksgiving Anthem.

FOOTNOTE:
In case you missed or may have forgotten the Wedwand posts from the three previous years, here they are:

https://wedwand.wordpress.com/2015/11/25/tales-of-the-giving/
https://wedwand.wordpress.com/2014/11/25/the-393rd/
https://wedwand.wordpress.com/2013/11/27/on-the-eve-of-thanks-give-it/

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There’s a story in the Bible that I think is referred to as “Elijah and the Widow.”

Given the current culture in Hollywood, one might think this to be a racy story about a torrid romance. But it’s not.

As the story goes, Elijah went to a village Zarephath during a famine. Elijah asks a widow there for food.

She says, “We got no food. There IS no food in Zaraphath. There’s a famine going on here”

Elijah says, “Just make me a cake. Use that jar of meal and that jug of oil. Trust me on this. The jar of meal will not be emptied and the jug of oil will not fail until the day that the LORD sends rain on the earth.”

The widow says, “Whatever.”

And guess what? Elijah got his cake and the jug of oil never emptied and the jar of meal was always full. And they ate for many days.

Which brings me to the point of this week’s entry.

This morning, I went to brush my teeth. I had JUST purchased another tube of toothpaste because the old one looked tapped. But the old one was still functional. EVERY day for the last 30 days, many days, if you will, I was able to squeeze enough toothpaste from the tub to brush my teeth.

I went to the tube again. Folded it from bottom to top and viola. AGAIN, I squeezed enough toothpaste for yet another brushing. They may call it Crest, but I call it Elijah toothpaste. The darn thing never empties. Twist it left, curl it right, there’s always enough to brush my teeth.

Do you ever wonder about product packaging and how the corporate entities design their products JUST to make you think you need more, when you really do not?

The ketchup bottle holds enough to sprinkle on the fries, yet you throw it out with PLENTY left just because you can’t get any more out.

Same with the mustard and mayo. You know damn well there’s more in there, but you just can’t get the last remaining remnants out.

Me, I’ll squeeze it dry until the last vestige of the mustard has vanished. I’ll dip my french fry in the ketchup cap and have plenty to satisfy my need for sauce. I’ll use a spatula to scrape the bottom of the jar for the last of mayo for my turkey sandwich.

Not trying to go all Aesop on you, with a fable, but keep squeezing that last drop. Just when you think it’s empty, maybe there’s a little more left.

FOOTNOTE 1: I have this photo that would make Andy Warhol proud of a seemingly empty tube of toothpaste that was scheduled to be posted. Alas, it would not download on Wedwand. In its stead, the camel of Wedwand is there to help you get over the hump. Use your imagination. I’m sure you have one of these toothpaste tubes in your very own bathroom.

FOOTNOTE 2: Wedwand will be running reruns for a while I work on completing another writing project. Maybe, it will turn into a book. Wish me luck on this venture.

Since 2013, Wedwand has been here weekly with 237 posts and 7,054 reads. Last week was 36. The week before 261.

Sometimes, it feels like that street performer you see singing and say,” Man that guy’s good.” Sometimes, you stop and listen. Sometimes, you walk on by.

If you stopped to read, I thank you

IMG_0456 (2)How many times has this happened to you?

You put 10 socks in the washer and when you empty the dryer, only 9 are there.
You scrape the washer, impeccably search the dryer and diligently follow your path from the laundry room to the bedroom and no missing sock.

My wife has this basket of unmatched socks in our bedroom, hoping for that day when she finds a mate in another load. The day never comes. It’s a mystery we all encounter.

Have you ever thought of this? Perhaps, socks are monogamous or monogosox if you prefer.

When I buy my socks, it’s usually in a 3 pack or 6 pack or whatever and the socks are all neatly matched, usually bound together with a small seemingly annoying plastic piece, that to socks are perhaps a wedding rings of sorts.

And what do we do? We rip apart their band, step on them all day long and then throw them in a hamper when we are done. Leave them there for a few days or so with shirts and trousers and more socks and throw them in a vat of soapy water.

They soon learn that the odds of 12 socks ever being perfectly matched together again are 0.00757575. (Just trust me, my sister Susan is a math geek and got that stat for Wedwand in under a minute.)

As they splash about getting agitated, rinsed and spun you can almost hear them scream, “Bobby, where are you?”

“I’m here, Crew. I promise I’ll never be matched with another.”

It’s kinda like the Titanic for those socks when they get dropped in the washer. As the water pours into the tub and the fabric softener is added, you can almost hear Celine Dion singing, “Near far, wherever you are…”

Alas, one sock ultimately goes missing in search of their mate. Mystery solved.

Speaking of socks, the Christmas tradition of hanging stockings also involves only ONE stocking and a myriad of myths surround the origin.

I have modified the multiple tales into a real true fiction yarn.

A certain man, St. Nicholas if you will, heard of the plight of a local man who had fallen on hard times back in the 18th century. It seems this man had three daughters and being a man of little means was in a difficult row trying to marry them off in those days without a dowry.

Being a proud man, he accepted no charity so on one Christmas Eve St. Nick, having heard of his plight, snuck outside the man’s house and happened upon the three eligible ladies stockings conveniently hung by the chimney to dry. He dropped a gold ball in each of the 3 stockings and the father and daughters lived happily thereafter.

To replicate this tradition, if one is not in possession of gold, oranges cast the illusion of that precious metal after a few egg nogs. So one may substitute oranges for gold to perpetuate the tradition, unless you’re the kind of person that has a pocketful of gold Krugerrands. Then by all means stop by my house and I’ll lead you to the stockings.

Clement Clark Moore immortalized the tradition in 1823 when he penned “The Night before Christmas” and including this line in his yarn:

“The stockings were all hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.”

So stuff your stockings with whatever you have to spare in your pocket, be it real gold, an orange or a stocking-sized trinket.

But don’t forget the true meaning of Christmas. Love this song and Bing Crosby’s ‘Pray for peace people everywhere” plea which still holds true today.

The rest is simply yuletide lore. Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.

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