It is only nine o'clock and I am ready to go to bed.

Mishka the cat is curled up next to my right arm, already asleep.

Today we made it down to Pearl St. Mall, and to Savory Spice Shop. After a while, I descibed how to get home by bus, and returned. Yah, my available energy is noticeably less than it used to be.

Little Meshullam is a delight.

Shlomo Barya brought the turkey---which he had shechted. He promised that the turkey had had a good life up till then. Now comes the job of plucking out what feather-roots are still left. He pulled some out with pliers.

I spent about an hour wrestling feathers with my tweezers to gypsy flamenco music; it is not done.

The turkey is resting in a cooler in the garage awaiting further plucking tomorrow.

This is significantly worse than my chin hairs; the tweezer might never recover.

I am getting silly. Time for bed.

I wish us all a day in which we remember all for which we are thankful.