Head + rectum + remove = fill in the dots

I told you last time that I was going to pull my head out of my behind and start living-and not too soon, either.

Fighting words, delivered two days before Thanksgiving. So I did something I didn't do even when I was in New York: I went around the corner to Pizza Express and I had a pepperoni pizza. Bonkers, or what? New York is the home of pizza, calzones, cannolis-but I didn't have a single slice, I waited until this week.

I don't eat much junk food-usually-but I'm one of those people who, when depressed, eats everything that is edible and isn't nailed down. It's usually Kettle Chips-which, strictly speaking, constitute one of your five a day (vegetables. That's my story and I'm sticking to it). I had those, too-not together, obviously.

Now-when I was home I had Popeyes, which, as I wrote, is like Kentucky Fried Chicken but with chicken (I hope!) and without the food poisoning (trust me, I know). Popeyes? Pizza Express? Absolutely delicious. With every bite I could feel my arteries harden and my cholesterol go through the roof. All that saturated fat. All those chemicals. All that salt (sugar, too. Mustn't forget the sugar).  Yum!! Life is far too short to start worrying about cholesterol and arteries.

Unfortunately, my pigging out had consequences. I was so bloated that I looked like I was ready to give birth to a brontosaurus. And the pizza, delicious as it was, generated enough gas to launch the Hindenburg. I could easily have blown myself over to Paris for the weekend-and probably blown myself back, too. Pigging out is a good thing, anyway. I don't do it all the time; if I had pizza or fried chicken every day I would be twice the size of an airship. Someone could paint advertising on my side and just let me fly.

But by yesterday afternoon I was back to normal, and I'm advising you-just in case you're looking for permission from someone (anyone), you've got it. Going overboard once a year-even once a month-makes all this eating clean stuff tolerable. But only just. Tomorrow we could be hit by a bus-struck by lightning-be smack in the middle of a terrorist attack. Hardly the time to be worrying about calories.

On Wednesday I was getting ready to cook the turkey and do all the vegetables the next day-but the best laid plans, and all that. I got a call from an old friend who was in my cancer group: Sue was one of the people who had a worse time than I did, and we cheered each other up. We went our separate ways, although every Christmas we call each other to catch up. On Wednesday I knew there was bad news: we only have a chat every December.

Sue's husband is terminal, and this will be his last Christmas-if he makes it that far. So Sue, knowing that Thursday was Thanksgiving, decided to throw him a Thanksgiving party. They're both English, so that surprised me-but she said that she'd like me to attend, even though she only put the whole thing together the day before. I'm her favorite American, she said. What, was it either me or Trump?

It was great fun, and nobody wanted to mention any health issues. There were six of us, one American, four English and one Irish (sounds like a lunch menu). We all were grateful for a lot, and we went around the table to talk about it. It turns out that I am really lucky, and I have about a dozen reasons to be very, very grateful. Plus I cracked jokes, and everyone found them funny, which is another reason to be grateful. Coping mechanism: it really does work. So do Kettle Chips.

Well, that is me done for another Thanksgiving, and I hope that everyone reading this had a good one, too, no matter where you were or what you were doing. Tomorrow I get to cook another turkey-Sue had bought three, so she asked me not to bring anything, or they would be eating turkey, veg, potatoes, and whatever until mid-December.

Here we come: turkey sandwiches, turkey curry, a hundred ways to cook turkey. I'll keep you posted. Meanwhile, it's Black Friday, and you would think that there were some real sales out there, the way that people are pushing and shoving. All in the Christmas spirit.

I'm keeping my head down, and going to Starbucks.