Wrong Wrong Wrong

I don't think it's in our nature to enjoy being proven wrong. We usually don't like it when we make a statement and it gets completely debunked. Not usually something we enjoy.

Not usually.

I carried on pretty hard the other night, decrying society's propensity for selfishness, along with an ever-evolving ability to rationalize that behavior until we convince ourselves that what we're doing (or not doing, as the case may be) is just fine and dandy.

Well, leave it to me to be 100% wrong.

Yesterday, there was an invasion here at my home. Pop's grandkids made an appearance, accompanied by their Moms. By 1 PM, the population here was up to about 15 of us. They came to visit Pop-Pop, as they call him. Kids ranging in ages from 8 to 22 converged in one loud, happy, giggling crowd. 12 females, and 3 males. My son lucked out for once, as one of the girls had her boyfriend with her, and they hit it off, so it was a great day all around.

Chef Lippy Louie here got to do what he loves best: cooking a big meal for a whole lotta people. We had a second Thanksgiving here in Stupidville.

Turkey, stuffing, cranberry, vegetables and biscuits! (yep I made 'em and they were NOT hockey pucks!) But I have to be honest, the best, most tasty dishes I got to sample were a big, heaping helping of Crow, followed by a nice portion of Humble Pie.

Pop had a HELL of a day, and I was proven wrong, big-time.

I love being wrong.