Here are some pics of my pleasant and quiet Thanksgiving.


Anne's son helping chop mushrooms for stuffing.






The rocket scientist planning his turkey carving skills.






The moms and their wine.

My son off to a quick start against Grandpa, a formidable opponent.

Eggs anyone? I'm thinking this might be a good week for a round of the Atkins diet. Thank God I got my sister to take that cake home. Now all I have to resist are the Peeps, and they are going fast.

The Irish mayhem was unraveling early in DC yesterday.

I was heading into the Improv to see a comic hypnotist around 6:30. We wanted to turn on M Street, but were thwarted by a clog of police cars, an ambulance and a fire truck with lights flashing and sirens recently silenced.

They were stopped helter-skelter in front of a club called Rumors. I bet no advertising is bad advertising. We definitely missed the main event there!

Out front by some cafe tables were about 20 patrons, in green, drinks still in hand all shouting and laughing. A prankish looking group of leprechauns quickly exited the establishment, looking over their shoulders as they dashed across the street.

When I looked back at the Rumors crowd, a police officer was escorting to his cruiser a knucklehead, too drunk to be shamefaced, wearing a t-shirt that said "Kiss me I'm Sh*tfaced!"

Ahh, the luck of the Irish!