On up the mountain, together, on the mission of determining whether the tiny Thanksgiving kitten could safely exit quarantine and meet her majesty the Kali-co, and freely roam the part of the house that is not the guest bedroom.

The lil cat, now known as Little Big Man, less formally as Riley, was judged fit and non-viral by the Prettytown vet.

We had a Martanne’s lunch and I had the Chilaquiles (from the Nahuatl word chīlāquilitl, “chiles and greens”) that built the house, and that will always be a signal of a good day.

There were pings from family all over the country for various reasons and those worked for me too.

At the end of the day, apropos the ambient unveiled rage, we watched this.

In my considered opinion as a humanities expert, you should too.