K:  Dan is talking crazy about appetizers for Thanksgiving.  Because there isn’t enough to overeat on Thanksgiving.  Although I do so love the carmelized onion dip. 
D:  We always had a pickle and olive platter.  It’s very traditional.
K:  Did you just say a pickle and olive platter is traditional?
D:  Very.
K:  Um, were your grandparents born in Washington state?
D:  Yes.
K:  And your great grandparents?
D:  I think they were born in Washington too.
K:  So your great history of “tradition” is a few generations born on that OTHER coast?
D:  Yeah.  What are you trying to say?
K:  How long have your people had tradition?  I mean, you’ve only been there for like a hundred years.  It’s not your people settled in the birthplace of the freedom.  Traditional?  It’s not like they fought in the Revolutionary War.  I’m not saying I AM a card-carrying member of the DAR but that’s due to laziness.  Hundreds of years of laziness. 

This would be the point were I apparently crossed the line.

D:  HEY, my PEOPLE fought in the Revolutionary War.
K:  As members of the French army.  That hardly counts.
D:  Um, this country couldn’t have won the war without the French.

It’s only been how many years since those words have been spoken? And will they ever be spoken again? I think not.

K:  Sure, your people did make that road up the street from our house that is now known as The Ultimate Shortcut to Ikea.  But you know what I’m saying.  Pickles and olives for a Thanksgiving appetizer?  Seriously?

My Mother Ginny:  I’m just calling to see how he is doing. 
K: Why are you calling?
MMG: I’m checking on how he is feeling and what happened with the stitches.
K: Mom,  did I tell you about Derek getting a vasectomy because it’s not like I would keep that from you but it doesn’t seem like something that would have just come up in conversation with your mother. “Hey, did I mention The Husband is getting fixed?” It’s not like I would hide it or anything.  It just seems surprising that we would have discussed it but it was nice of you to call to check on him. His stitches are fine.  He’s fine.  A little whiny, you know, telling doctor that he hadn’t changed his mind–he still didn’t want to do it–but what do you expect?  His stitches look alright, I guess, but it’s not like I’m in a rush to check them out again.

Cue the chorus of crickets, Bob.

MMG:  I was calling about Ethan’s stitches.
K:  Oh, hmm.  Hmm.  Yeah, they need 4 people to hold him down to get them out but he’s fine now.
MMG:  Great.  That’s all I was calling about.

Shockingly, it seemed as if we had nothing left to say.

It’s that moment we have been waiting for for YEARS!!!!  The Mr. America Pageant is finally here.  You’ve seen how well the candidates look in evening wear and you’ve heard all their solutions for world peace.

Now go out and vote.  And don’t complain about the long lines.  I waited 4 hours one year.  It’s your civic duty.  And then go out and enjoy a free Starbucks, Krispy Kreme and Ben and Jerry’s and hope it’s a sign of how awesome everything is going to be!!!