I like two kinds of turkey sandwiches. The night-of-Thanksgiving turkey sandwich, eaten late and alone, in the peaceful muzziness that follows a successful party, is moist white meat on 12-grain bread, with Dijon mustard, mayonnaise, and leafy lettuce. With a nice glass of a full-bodied chardonnay to go with. Ahhhhh.

Day-after-Thanksgiving turkey sandwich is a little fancier. Eaten for lunch (with Diet Coke if working in the afternoon, otherwise, more wine [g]), again on 12-grain bread, but mixed white and dark meat, thickly daubed with gorgonzola cheese, heavily studded with walnuts, and layered with a sliced ripe pear. You put mayonnaise on the bread, but mostly to keep it all stuck together. Oooooh.

But of course turkey (etc.) is not the primary reason to celebrate Thanksgiving. (No, really. Add in a nice bottle of Veuve Clicquot champagne, and I’m not saying, but….no, really.) So let us concentrate on the essentials.

I’m thankful for whatever it is that makes me write books.

I’m very thankful for those of you who read the books, because I might tell stories to amuse myself, but it’s having those stories read that closes the cosmic circle of creation.

I’m especially thankful to have met so many of you (in the US, Canada, New Zealand, and Australia) over the last two months. I’ve never met so many nice people in such a short period of time. But…

I’m most thankful of all to be home with my family!

Hope you all had a lovely day, and much to be thankful for, whether you celebrate Thanksgiving or not.