Sweet Potatoes and Other Brown Foods

Chandler and I have just returned from our morning walk, and he has jumped up on the bed to give Mark his customary wake up kisses. Mark seems to enjoy the love he gets from Chandler in this morning ritual, so I let it go on. What I don't have the heart to tell Mark, as the dog lays a big slobbery kiss on his face, is that Chandler has been sampling his favorite street food again, dog shit. It's something new for him. Lately Chandler will find a particularly sweet smelling spot in the grass where another dog has pooped, and start licking. He does it so fast that it takes me a few seconds to realize what he's doing, and by the time I can jerk him away from it, he has had his taste.

Here at our house, we are getting ready for a different taste. Thanksgiving! This is the holiday that Mark plans for all year. For weeks he has been scouring his cook books for recipes, and tearing out coupons for the grocery store in anticipation of this one meal. It looks to be another overproduced, overstuffed, and delicious holiday. I only have a couple of problems with it. First of all, Mark has invited people to dinner that I don't like. It seems that all my friends, and the friends of Mark that I can tolerate, have other plans, so I will have to put up with the guests we have, not the guests I want. Luckily Mark has stocked up on extra bottles of wine, and I have a full bottle of vodka in the bar, so at least I'll think I'm having fun. The other thing I would like to change, is the fact that Mark makes too much food. Too much in quantity, and too much in variety. Some things must be on the menu, like turkey, cranberries, mashed potatoes, stuffing, Mark's mac and cheese, and of course his famous greens. Unfortunately, Mark does not do it in moderation, and I end up eating that stuff for weeks. What I have told him that I don't really need to see, are the sweet potatoes. I really don't need to have that orangey, brown colored goop, with marshmallows on it, sitting on the table. The worst part about it is if I eat the sweet potatoes, Chandler will probably think I'm doing the same thing I yell at him for doing.