Call me a hopeless number cruncher. Call me an unsentimental student of the dysfunction family. Call me a penny-pinching tightwad.
Come to think of it, call me anything but late to Thanksgiving dinner.
Say what you will, I just can't get excited about the great November holiday until the American Farm Bureau Federation releases its annual estimate of the cost of Thanksgiving dinner. But now the AFBF curtain has formally been raised, my analytical head is spinning, my bank account has been unfrozen, and my gastronomic juices are roiling like whitewater rapids.
I can't remember what my late-fall obsession was ...