Stedman Is An Ass

Here lie the remains from my 1990 Woman’s Day Magazine insert Countdown to Thanksgiving.


I followed this thing to the letter for most of my married life. A series of coincidences brought this from its place of honor on my cookbook shelf to the coffee table and ultimately to the floor, unnoticed and unguarded. Stedman has very little destruction in him – almost none at all – except for those occasions when paper fortuitously appears before him. That’s what makes him an ass.

7 thoughts on “Stedman Is An Ass”

  1. Poor Stedman. He’s a victim of his DNA. You can probably replace the countdown information,although maybe not the hard copy, with an online search. I do it sometimes for the library. I’m usually looking for education journals, but I’ll bet a popular magazine would be even easier.

  2. All the fragrance of Thanksgivings past that were detectable only by the superior olfactory nerves of your corgi just probably just overpowered him. Dogs live in the moment, I don’t think he knew how much the document meant to you.

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