Crappy day, really.

I can’t believe it’s Thanksgiving this week. I am so not ready for the holidays. I have to make a Closed for Thanksgiving sign and all I can come up with is “Closed in Observance of the Attempted Genocide of the Native Americans” or “Closed for the Day-After-Thanksgiving Sales.”

And although those ideas got my bosses to crack up, I think they’re looking for something a little more traditional.

I’ve been given my Thanksgiving food task. Apparently my mashed potatoes and gravy was so incredibly popular last year that I’ve been asked to bring them again.

Now since there will be twice the number of people, I need to rethink the recipe.

And by rethink, I mean “increase.” And by recipe, I mean “order from the local grocery store.”

They really were good. And I got to employ the time-tested “took me hours” joke. That I stole from someone else.

Lest it be thought that I don’t cook—I don’t—I am also providing the stuffing and Cranberry-Orange bread. Made from scratch by me. So there.

And in unrelated news: I was out on the back stoop moments ago… um… well… er… Having a smoky treat, okay? And suddenly this guy appeared running like hell through yards and then proceeding at full tilt down the alley. Followed moments later by another guy running like hell. They both looked at me as they were running past.

You don’t run like hell from unseen forces unless you’ve been up to no good or are being chased by unseen evil forces. Which led me to believe that they had just tried to do something illegal, got busted, and ran. The fact that there were police sirens everywhere helped bolster that thought process.

So I’m thinking, Holy crap, these guys are criminals and are making their getaway, and Holy crap, they could be armed and ready to eliminate potential witnesses.

So I stood there and watched them run down the alley. I figured sudden movement was not a good plan. Nor was staring at them for any length of time. So I quickly ducked back inside and kind of pondered my options. Which I decided were pretty minimal. If they did commit a crime, I can’t identify them. And if I called the cops, what do I say? Two youths just ran like hell past me, hope this helps?

What is it with me lately that criminal activity tends to invade my life?

This completely reminds me of the time when I was driving home from buying groceries and saw two teen males running like hell down the middle of the street looking scared out of their minds. Chased by a small and wildly yipping dog.