Just North of Whoville Turiskylie, Joyce (smart books to read .TXT) 📖

of French bread as a baton.

And then they picked me up and paraded me around.

Oh my god. I was in the parade. I could just hear the parade commentators in my head.

“What’s going on down there? Can we get a close shot on that?”

“Looks like a young woman broke into the parade.”

“Young? I’d say more like thirty-five.”

“I think you’re right. About thirty-five. Boy, she looks terrified!”

Thankfully, one of the clowns realized I was going into apoplectic shock. They put me down and gathered up my groceries.

“Sorry about that, lady,” the clown said in a deep Brooklyn accent. “They warned us at Clown School about people like you. But we’re the good clowns. We’re not here to scare you. Happy Thanksgiving!” he said as he handed me my shopping bags and went on his merry way.

As I stumbled past the barricades, I heard a familiar voice.

“Ohmygod! Dorrie! Dorrie!” Timmy called out.

He broke away from a group of elves and came running towards me.

“Ohmygod! You were in the parade!”

“Why are you still an elf?” were the only words that came out of my clown-phobic mouth.

“Just supporting my fellow elves in the parade.”

Out of nowhere, a microphone was shoved in my face.

“Excuse me, ma’am. Can you tell us what happened out there?” a reporter asked.

And then there was a camera right in my face.

“Um…I was just trying to cross the street.”

“During a parade,” she laughed that fake reporter laugh. “What were you thinking?”

“Hi Mom!” Timmy yelled into the camera. “This is my friend Dorrie! Happy Thanksgiving!!!” he screamed. Literally screamed, like a fourteen year-old girl seeing The Beatles on Ed Sullivan.

“So Dorrie, anyone you would like to wish a Happy Thanksgiving?”

“Um…no. That’s okay,” I muttered and tried to get away.

“What did you think of your friend in the parade?” she asked Timmy.

“Ohmygod! It was SO exciting! I was totally not expecting it!”

As she moved her focus to the more camera-friendly Timmy, my cell phone rang.

“Hi honey. It’s Dad. We’re watching the parade on TV and....well, your mother is upset that you didn’t wish her a Happy Thanksgiving. You know how she’s been, with the change and all. Could you just say hello to her? Don’t ruin our Thanksgiving.”

“Okay,” the reporter was winding up the segment. “from Clown Control to Mission Control…”

“Wait…” I stopped her. “I do have someone to say ‘hi’ to. Hi Mom! Happy Thanksgiving!” I said as festively as I could.

“Happy Thanksgiving to you too, honey,” my Mom said on my cell. Dad had obviously passed it onto her. He never was a big phone guy.

“Did you get your ticket to come home yet?” she asked.

“Um…no. Not yet,” I said both to my phone and the camera that was still in my face.

“Oh sweetie, the flights are going to sell out,” she warned.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Dorrie’s Mom!” Timmy yelled into the camera.

“Honey, is that your new boyfriend? He looks a little young for you.”

When I finally got off the phone, Timmy was still standing there.

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

“I’m…making dinner. It’s kind of last-minute.”

“That still counts,” he said with his usual optimism.

“Where are you going for dinner?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he sighed. “My family’s all back home. But there’s a diner by my house. The Thanksgiving special comes with a free can of soda.”

I was starting to think Dr. Prince was onto something.

“Why don’t you come over to my place? It’s just me and my friend Steve. There’s plenty of food.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to break up Thanksgiving with your boyfriend.”

“He’s just a friend. His family’s in Korea this week. So come over”

It didn’t take too much convincing.

“Mom, I’m curious,” I said on the phone later that morning as she gave me tips on turkey preparation. “Why didn’t you and Dad ever want any pets?”

“It’s not that we don’t like animals. But they’re a lot of work. And you have to be home for them all the time. Remember how your Aunt Rose was with those dogs of hers. She never went anywhere.”

I hesitated to say that they never really went anywhere, either. After all, I’d been in New York City for four years and they hadn’t come to visit me once.

“When you and your brother were growing up, we talked about getting a dog. But then we remembered how you were when that hamster died. That was horrible. You built a shrine out there for that rodent. In the summer, we couldn’t even get the lawn mower too close to his grave or you’d start bawling again. You were just too emotional, honey. We didn’t want to go thru Cuddles again. All I’m saying is that I don’t want to be around you when that cat of yours dies.”

That was something I wouldn’t need to think about for a long time. Heidi would always be around. Well, not always. And she certainly wasn’t around now. Houseguests always sent her into hiding. But she was very healthy and would certainly live to be at least twenty-five or maybe even thirty. Possibly a contender for Oldest Cat Alive.

As I began work on the sweet potatoes, Steve came in the kitchen to help. Immediately realizing that he was no help at all, I began grilling him about Nate.

“He just mentioned that he saw you here and that it was weird that you were seeing Alex, that’s all. Don’t worry, I won’t say anything. How’s the turkey?”

“I don’t know,” I said as I opened the oven. “Does it look done?”

“Isn’t it supposed to be brown on top?”

“Maybe it just needs a few more minutes.”

An hour later we were still looking at a tan-colored turkey.

“Do you have a meat thermometer?”

“You’re lucky I have meat.”

“Shouldn’t