Let's see...

my whiskey cocktail is half-full... and it's not my first of the night.

there is a dead buck in the bed of the truck in the garage in my house. surprisingly that is not the lyrics to some backwoods redneck summer campfire song, it's just the reality of life chez mitchell.

if one were to take this as a slice of life of the mitchell family, one would actually believe that things were wonderful... because tonight? they were... they are.

watching scrubs rerun with peter right now. love it.

I built my own fire tonight, it's still smoldering in a sexy-hot-chocolate-ski-lodge-naked-under-a-blanket kind of way. for the record, no one here is presently naked.

I have no responsibilities for a full 24 hours aside from doing my laundry and creating a kick-ass thanksgiving feast-a-palooza. this year we are experimenting with turkey brining... don't know what that is? me neither... but it sounds promising. it too is relaxing in the garage with the dead deer. we here in the midwest are, after all, equal-opportunity carnivores.

good things:
scotch
whiskey
leftovers
frank caliendo
fender guitars
digital cameras
grapefruit
my dog, Mags
real fireplaces
feather beds
embarassing photo ops
massages - I could really use one
being home... in every sense of the word
not caring that I haven't slept... for days
waking up with people I love, regardless
knowing that I'm about to sleep... soundly (thank you, crown royal)