Sometime after Halloween, when the radio started drowning in Christmas music and Starbucks reintroduced their eggnog latte, a ball of dread started to grow in my gut. And it continues to grow as big as the mall Santa’s beer belly until I will be faced with the very event that inspires this trepidation: Thanksgiving dinner. Where relatives abound and the most burning hunger is not for turkey, but for details of my personal life. I am thankful for the wine that will help me survive their predictable questions. It might
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