One of the things that happened this holiday is that Natty got laryngitis. It is kind of funny, I have to say. He does his silly whispers, as Ned calls it. But Ned is also afraid that Nat will just continue to whisper, even after he's better, because maybe it just feels better to him. He seems to love doing it. I also noticed that his flapping has become more frantic, more copter-like, in inverse proportion to the sound of his voice.
Even with his slight cold, Nat seemed to enjoy Thanksgiving. Grandma Shelly kept loading up his plate with all of the turkey bone parts, and he kept eating and eating. Nat's ability to eat and not gain an ounce is legendary in my family. We have never heard of such a thing, so watching Nat consume food is kind of a miracle to behold. We can't stop ourselves from offering him things to eat; we have the Eastern European Type Jewish metabolism, (known as E.E.T. Jewish) but Nat must take after Ned's father's Load Up on Carbs and all Kinds of Yummies metabolism (L.U.C.K.Y)
Just when I was about to say, "Mom, stop, he'll just keep eating," he got up from the table with his plate, set it empty on the counter, and left the room. We kept eating. I had made two pies: blueberry-apple-cranberry with cornmeal crust; and pumpkin with cornmeal crust. Cornmeal crust is way better than regular. Regular is like salty cardboard and doesn't add anything to the luscious filling. It is often something to tolerate or to eat around. But cornmeal crust tastes a bit like mild crunchy shortbread and is a wonderful foil to the sweetness of the filling.
I am so fat right now I can't stand it. The only thing that will make me feel better is to raid the boys' Halloween stash. This is not a clever blog post ending, it is just the pathetic truth. I'm eating drinking and being sad because tomorrow, we diet. But not Nat, that L.U.C.K.Y. so-and-so. Ned doesn't even allow me to complain about my puffiness because he's sick of it, so I have to suffer in silence and hope I don't have blogged arteries.