Well, that was nice. It’s always nice. I made a toast dedicating the feast to the second, less-famous Thanksgiving, because, as I said in a tweet (I always feel compelled to point out when I’’m reusing material) that’s what you would expect from a guy who says “actually, Gershwin wrote two Rhapsodies.” No one believes you. He did? What color was it?

The dogs got along; Birch played with Pippa - there must be a billion small dogs in the Western world named Pippa; women loved the name, but wouldn’t give it to a child. A puppy? OMG YES. Pippa found one of Birch’s toys and made a great show of carrying it around, which led to a vigorous disputation under the table.

But everyone else got along. I mean, French Brother-in-Law followed my toast by saying “we survived the first year of Trump” and no one cared one way or the other, because such sentiments seemed to recede to insignificance in the presence of The Bird and the Sides.

In between the main meal and dessert - you know, that 45 minute stretch where everyone lets the brown bolus diminish so it does not occupy the entirely of your abdomen - we played Password. As I always say: “board games! For people who can’t have a conversation.” It’s a joke! Meant sincerely. Thing is, everyone can have a conversation, but for some reason we play Password, and that’s really fun when one of the players is French.

He looks at the word. “Breakfast.”

Wife shoots back an answer; it’s wrong.

“Bake.”

“Muffins.”

And so on, but she doesn’t get it. After the round’s over he tells us what the word was: “bread.”

The Americans are amused, because we don’t think of bread when the subject of breakfast comes up. Toast, yes. But toast is different.

Oh, the word was actually knead, but he couldn’t read it right because of the red tint in the card window.

It’s reversed, and my wife is shooting him clues. I loved this, because it was so French:

“Doctors,” she says.

“Borders,” he replies.

Daughter and I had some crackerjack rounds - like one-clue / same brainwave stuff. We only lost because Sis-in-law insisted that the teams be changed for the second round. Then all the girls danced to “Africa” by Toto because they’ve decided to go to Namibia next summer. Sis-in-law says they will be glamping, and I had to tell her in no uncertain terms to never, ever use the word in my presence again.

“It’s glamorous camping!”

“I know. It sounds like you’re clamping someone’s gonads.”

Anyway, I’m dead beat. Sleepy, of course; meat and wine and running up and down the stairs, washing the floors, cleaning - I swear I did every dish and every plate as the meal progressed, taking empty plates, rinsing, filing in dishwasher, doing the pots and pans - and the end of the meal there were still 20 things to clean. After everyone’s gone you have to strike the set and return the house to normal.

It’s all practice for Christmas.

I always forget for film anything. I get a before shot, some harried kitchen action, but I never make anyone say anything for posterity.

I think Posterity will wave and say “don’t worry about it. You’re good.”

Obligatory for Friday:


On Thanksgiving afternoon he was downloading instructions from the mothership again. If it looks warm, it was - no snow. No grey skies.

 

 

 

Gildersleeve season 7. We're coming to the end of this year's exhaustive catalog of the Gildersleeve musical cues, and believe me: I could go another year. I won't, but I could.

   
 

Horace Hooker has provoked some donkey music, a reminder of his trademark laugh.

   
   
   

   
 

Crash! Domestic strife and misery music. With a harp for hope.

   
   
   

 

   
 

Birdy gets the bluesy music.

   
   
   

 

   
 

 

Another old song; this one goes back almost two decades, and was obviously something people would recognize - and make the proper connection to the plot.

Can you identify it?

   
   
   

 

   
 

AD: 1948. Another visit with Silent Sam.

Sam Loudly.

   
   
   

 

Dime-store cheapies for . . . who? Who bought these? How many Grandmas were there to support this genre?

 

   
 

It's Creased Cloth and his orchestra!

   
   
   

 

 

That'll do; see you around. New Gallery addition today. Because the Gallery of Regrettable Food is still going on and on and on after 20 years, with a huge, huge, IMMENSE addition coming in 2018. Have a great weekend!

 

 
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