To you and yours, a Happy Thanksgiving! There was a great op-ed in this past Sunday’s Boston Globe, and I’d link to it, if I had a pointer to it, and maybe I’ll look for it.

I arrived for fitness class on Monday, was sitting on the floor of the aerobics room stretching when super-cute fitness instructor Lori came in. “I guess it’s just you and me,” she told me.

And I knew what that meant. The official rule is there have to be two to have a class. I guess that other time was just a dream come true.

I was the only one to show up for class on Tuesday, and again on Wednesday. She knows how hard I’m working. But does she know how much she has helped me? “In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I want you to know that I’m thankful for you,” I told her. She thanked me and we talked for a little while. “One more,” I said, “and we can have class.”

“I need it, too,” she said, “so I can work on my big butt.”

“You’ll have to find one first,” I said. What I was thinking, though, was that she has the cutest butt in the whole entire world, which is actually true. I just left it alone.

I told her how my plan for Thanksgiving is to have no dessert. I’m going to take just a little bit of turkey and all that, so I can have more if I want, but none of the pie and stuff.

And no birthday cake. I didn’t tell her it’s my birthday.

She’s got me bouncing around on one of those big fitness balls, so I’d better get down to the basement and do that. It’ll be the only workout I get today. Tomorrow I’ll probably go into the office just for a workout, and so I can weigh myself afterwards, as I periodically do, and see what, if any, damage, the holiday has caused.

We’re going to Wifey’s parents’ house and I told her flat out — no birthday cake. “Well what if my mother gets one, you’re going to be polite about it.” To which I suggested that she could make sure her mother doesn’t get one. This should be interesting.

Gobble gobble, y’all!