It may not be polite to say it but around thanksgiving you hear it a lot, the expression “I am stuffed.” Maybe I am being a stickler for logic but really, the battle is to preserve the English language. So when I had enough to eat I should probably say something like “Thank you, but I had enough.” That would make sense. I should not say “I am dressed.” That does not make sense, unless you are in a nudist camp. Yet for the turkey it would be quite in order to admit that he is stuffed. Because that is true. I stuck the apple and the giblets in myself. I stuffed him, and then I tell the guests to eat some of the dressing. That does not make sense, either. I did not dress the turkey. He comes the way he was born, figuratively speaking, only more tanned. If that is confusing let us, in addition to the thanksgiving dinner rolls make two thanksgiving dinner rules: 1. Come on time and dressed. 2. Serve the turkey, also on time but stuffed. Or better even: serve ham.
For a people whose country was formed by defying a king, we Americans show an amazingly lively interest in things royal. What fascinates many, including me, is the British monarchs’ longevity. It is a topic that is often in my mind, given the fact that the present Queen and I are the same age. That may be the reason for this strange dream I had. It involved an old lady with whom I somehow came to share a cup of British tea. She looked somehow familiar. “Are you not the Queen’s Mom?” I asked her. She confirmed that and it caused me some embarrassment because I did not know how to address someone of that rank in the third person. I settled for “madam” and asked her: “Would Madam like a piece of cake with her tea?” To my astonishment she unwrapped a parcel she had brought along. It contained a huge cake in the form of a ball, something British and spongy. She had baked it herself, she confided, but “it did not pop although I baked it and baked it.”