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ThanksgivingNovember 26, 2009 The last several years I haven't done much for Thanksgiving besides look after other people's horses and/or dogs and, weather permitting, go for a ride. Local shotgun deer season begins the Monday after Turkey Day, and that means we stay out of the woods for two weeks. Not all public and conservation lands are open for hunting, and hunting is never permitted within 500 feet of an inhabited dwelling, and most island hunters are competent, alert, and sober, but I'm not willing to bet my safety on the few who aren't, or on 100% compliance with the rules and regs. The state forest, at 5,000+ acres by far the largest tract of public land on the Vineyard, is strictly no-go in my book during boom-boom season. These days my early morning walk with Travvy follows the state forest perimeter for a quarter or half a mile, depending on our route. I'm even thinking of bagging those routes for the duration. The riding weather hasn't been good so far this holiday weekend: the forecast for tomorrow is rain, but we might get a break on Saturday. Anyway, this Thanksgiving I pigged out in good company and walked it off between meals. I even did a little cooking. Several dog people gathered for breakfast at one person's home. I took the invitation as an excuse to make the pecan sticky buns that are not the sort of thing that people who live solo generally cook for themselves. This meant mixing up and kneading some dough before Trav and I went for our a.m. walk. Trav was a little perplexed, but fortunately his bladder was OK with the delayed departure. The dough rose while we walked and then for another half hour or so. I could already tell that I was going to be late for the 9:30 breakfast, so I called the hostess to say I'd be late, all the while thinking that maybe pecan sticky buns were a stupid idea. You can't hurry yeast, and even though the rises weren't taking any longer than expected, everything else takes longer when you're in a hurry. Maybe I should have looked into that Pizza Crust Yeast I was ridiculing a few weeks ago? Well, I got there late, but I got there. The buns were a hit, the rest of the food was great, the conversation was likewise, and the day was off to a good start despite the gray sky. Trav and I then went for a bike ride. This turned out to be more eventful than usual. On Halcyon Way just past Island Children's School we met Thibeaux and his mom. Keeping dog and bike on course is much easier if you maintain forward motion, but how can you catch up with your neighbor if you don't slow down? I dismounted. Travvy tried to catch up with Thibeaux, but he was pretty good. Thibeaux had a bandage on his leg: he just had surgery to remove a tumor and isn't supposed to be running around. He obviously wanted to be running around, and his mom said that the prognosis was good. Whew. Thibeaux's only seven, or maybe eight. We got under way with no trouble, went a little way on Old County Road, then picked up the bike path, heading for the turn-off for the Dr. Fisher Road. A dad and two children, young enough to be not entirely steady on their two-wheelers, approached from the other direction and passed successfully. The Dr. Fisher Road is a good deal rougher than Halcyon Way: more dirt, less gravel, and more moguls with generous puddles between them. In other words, negotiating it requires caution, especially when you've got a dog who doesn't like to get his paws wet and you don't want to splash your bike unnecessarily either. So when two joggers and a boisterous Chesapeake Bay retriever emerged suddenly from driveway just ahead on the right, the only alternatives were to plow into them or stop. Trav wanted to get at the Chessy, the Chessy wanted to get at Trav. I tried to keep Trav between the bike and the scrub-covered foot-high embankment on the side of the road, but I didn't have enough headway to keep the bike upright, so we fell over -- not too far, though, because of the embankment. The female jogger said, "Are you all right?" and stopped, which meant the male jogger and the Chessy stopped too, which meant that Travvy and I were not pulling in the same direction. "I'm fine," I said. "Keep going!" They did. So did Travvy, the bicycle, and I -- in the opposite direction. By the time we got home, I was thinking that maybe the nameless bicycle's name is the Red Menace. Goes well with Fellow Traveller, don't you think? By then it was time to figure out what to wear to Thanksgiving dinner at the Lambert's Cove Inn, courtesy of my friends Cris and Owen. This was fun and the food was great; once again I opted for the turkey, despite tempting alternatives. It was also leisurely: our reservation was for 2:15 and it was close to 5:00 -- and quite dark -- by the time we finished. I went home to feed Pearl, my neighbors' old Labradoodle, then Travvy and I headed off to the barn. It was way too dark to even think about picking the paddocks, so I just picked the stalls, checked water, and fed everybody. After one last stroll, Trav and I were in for the evening. I caught up on e-mail, did some writing, and won two games of Spider solitaire before calling it a night.
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