Last night, I finally sat down to write a post about how our Thanksgiving went. And after a couple of paragraphs, I realized I was too tired to continue. So, I closed the lid on the laptop and went to sleep. At 10pm. Which I NEVER do. And I slept until 10:10am this morning. Which I also never do. I think I'm fighting something, although I don't really feel sick per se. Luckily for you, I didn't post what I'd done because it was the most incomprehensible shit I have EVER written. And you would have thought I finally flipped my lid. The title is the short version, but since I know you've been waiting anxiously for two weeks to find out if I totally burnt the bird or had lumps in my mashed potatoes... here's what REALLY happened. We got up extra-early (because when you're cooking turkey and you've asked your guests to arrive at 1pm, you have no choice) and got the first of the two Picard turkeys in the oven a little ahead of schedule; so far, so good. We had breakfast with the Little Guy, where I made pancakes at his request, and created France's first-ever...
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