I wish I could bottle Thanksgiving Weekend and take sips from it all year.

Here's a random observation that I just wanted to get down before I forget: I was watching A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving last night, and I noticed something that never occurred to me before in the dozen other times I've seen it in my life. Near the end of the show in the final sequence, Snoopy and Woodstock prepare their own Thanksgiving meal and enjoy it outside Snoopy's dog house. I guess it's meant to be some sort of funny denouement to the episode, playing on the fact that the meal Snoopy had just previously served to Charlie Brown and his friends consisted of popcorn, toast, pretzel sticks and jelly beans. And then there's the dog and bird, enjoying a true feast. It is damn funny, actually. In previous years, I let the little joke distract me from the somewhat horrifying thing taking place on the screen. But last night, for some reason, I was able to forget the context and see the reality: little Woodstock gleefully eating a turkey, prepared and cooked by his friend, a dog. I'm not exactly certain what about that whole scenario freaks me out so much. It's not very much unlike those Pizza Hut commercials a couple years ago which featured Miss Piggy salivating over pizzas topped with bacon and sausage. But this was even more heinous, watching this bird being served the food by his canine friend, as if Woodstock and Snoopy's relationship had evolved to some sinister level, having the effect on the bird's mind that cancelled out any obligation whatsoever to his own species, including the promise not to cook and eat them. Maybe I'm just thinking too much about the whole thing. I'll stop now.

In other news, I'm house/petsitting for some friends. I was going through their CD collection today, and for the most part it's pretty slim pickings for such a music snob like me, but I did find a copy of Sensual World by Kate Bush. It's not a CD I own, for one reason: it contains the song This Woman's Work. It's been years since I've heard that song, but I had no doubt that no amount of time could dull the effect that that song has on me. Just for old time's sake, and maybe as a bit of a test, I turned off the TV, dimmed the lights, put the CD in their stereo, forwarded to track 10 and sat on the couch. It was just me and their cute dog sitting there, and I could swear that even little Annie felt the very air of the room change as that first piano chord struck and Kate's voice emited her first achingly beautiful "oooh-ooooh." We sat there and listened to the entire song; mine and the dog's eyes meeting momentarily near the middle, as if we were checking on each other and also perhaps giving a little support. Her sweet glance was in vain however, and when the climax of the song hit, I did as I always do and wept like a baby. Damn you Kate Bush and your gut wrenchingly beautiful song.

Two days off in a row and I still have two more days to sleep in. Someone a long time ago really knew what the hell they were doing when they put Thanksgiving on a Thursday. I'm guessing it was some indian, or maybe a pilgrim. Makes me want to thank them by going to a casino, or eating some oatmeal. Actually, I might be thinking of quakers with that last thing. Well, whatever.