Of course it's ICHC, geez.
No, we don't celebrate it. And we aren't going out for Chinese food, either. (Although, to our credit, we did think about it.) The denizens of La Casa de Los Gatos have joined forces with our northern neighbour, Ms. Manitoba, to roast a leg of lamb, highly spiced, and serve it with sauteed chard (cooked with red onion and pine nuts in olive oil), baked yams (or sweet potatoes; we can't remember what the fuck they're called — them mealy orangy potatoey thingies); and a sauce of olive oil, red wine, nutmeg, pepper, cumin, coriander, ginger, a smidge of North African spices; with chocolate cake for dessert, and a nice Merlot for them as wants to get soused.
Since your guest feline has been suffering the nasty side-effects of Augmentin for two weeks now, the lamb might well remain uneaten, but at least it'll be cooked and looked at, all pink inside with the joyous pink of rareness.
For those who do celebrate this holiday, have a good one, y'all. I hear the Nature deities dumped a shitload of snow and ice and cold winds on those in cooler climes. We'd like to take this opportunity to laugh out loud in public at the Global Warming Deniers once more. Hey, pinheads: the ambient air temperature has to be somewhat above freezing in order for snow to fall. So yeah, dimbos. It's warming, alright.
Enjoy what's left of your lives while you can, assholes. Thanks for refusing to do doodly about global warming for the last four or five decades.
To the rest of youse:
Yup. ICHC again. Stumble It!