CRAB-PEC?

Brunch with the Fate-Niks got canceled today so Plot and Duck are staring at that beautiful and rare non-involved, calendar-empty Sunday. It's raining, but Plottie already got his spring daffodils in the ground, raspberries transplanted and the rear fifty (feet) covered with compost. So let it rain, let it rain, let it rain.

Plot isn't sure who is cooking the turkey in Seattle, so he was looking at this morning's Chron recipe for Air-Chilled Turkey. Are you freaking kidding? Brine it for 24-48 hours, then set it in the fridge all by itself for another day, then make sure the specific gravity of molybdenum is no higher than your nose and then smother the bird in kisses? Who dreams up these recipes, anyway?

Naw, naw, ain't gonna happen. Plot wants to eat that turkey but doesn't want to cook it.

Grandma Joy, who is cooking already even though she's got this wedding, her own, to take care of two days after Thanksgiving, told Plottie she is making mac-and-cheese which will be better than Cousin Walter's, which is not physically possible, in Plotnik's opinion, but even close will be outrageously good.

Plot's got an idea that The Great P-Dunk will end up doing that turkey, and this year he won't stuff it with a duck and a chicken.

So we know about turkey, mac-and-cheese and pecan pie and what in the world else does anyone really need? Just the Happy Dance, and Isabella will be there to help Plottie do it, allevai, inshallah, Ump Willing.

Last night was supposed to be the opening of Dungeness crab season, which the Great Mush-Nik and Silent Bill usually host at their house, but though the season opened the crabbers are locked in a price dispute with the buyers. OPEC was bad enough, but CRAB-PEC? Why can't they just catch the crabs and then get the best price they can from whomever is willing to buy? Who said everybody has to organize about everything?

"So it was a fun evening, but no crab," crabbed Plotnik, who nonetheless really had a great time.