I was all ready to write a "Dear Blog" letter to let my blog down easy; to assure it that it was me, not it; to end our relationship in as dignified and tearless a manner possible. Then, I thought I'd employ all of my stealthy ninja-like moves to assassinate it in the dead of night; or middle of the afternoon; or perhaps after tea. Finally, I thought I'd just go out with a big bang and list a bunch o' crap about me before I had to shut 'er down. But y'all won't let me!

I've been too busy hostessing with the mostessing, going to work, coming home from work, visiting family, attending weddings, attending baseball games, and watching fat kids watch other fat kids dance. So. It comes to this. An excerpt from Sarah Vowell's Take the Cannoli on her post-Hall-of-Presidents visit at Disney World:

Boy, all that glory glory hallelujah sure makes you hungry. We exit the theater and agree that it is time to "Liberate Your Appetite" with a late lunch at the Liberty Tree Tavern . . . The maitre d' announces customers as if they're representatives to the Continental Congress, barking their last names and that of their home state. He gives the bell to a small child from "the Great State of Pennsylvania" who is supposed to ring in the meal. The child yells a phrase the maitre d' whispered into his ear: "Hairy! Hairy! Hairy!" Probably he's supposed to say "Here Ye," but I'm not one to knock the healing power of childhood Disney mispronunciations: When I was four, my parents made an appointment with an ear, nose, and throat specialist the moment they realized I was half deaf, rendering the Mickey Mouse Club theme
lyric "Forever let us hold our banner high" as "For every little polar bear to hide."

"The Vowell Family from the Great State of Illinois" is seated and served the Patriot's Platter - a family-style Thanksgiving dinner. I'm not quite sure if I feel particularly patriotic about strawberry vinaigrette on my Declaration Salad, though I gladly pledge allegiance to the mashed potatoes of the United States of America.