Thanksgiving at my house always means clog dancing — clog dancing from dawn to dusk and on into the middle watches of the night.

Here’s some footage from last year’s shindy (via Laura Leivick) — expecting an even wilder time this year.

5 thoughts on “CLOG DANCING

  1. I’m ironing by blouse, then I’ll shine my shoes, comb my hair and come over. Love, Laura

    • I hope I have time to comb my hair this year — it was a tangle last year and caused quite a scandal.

    • My doctor says my mind is not healthy enough for clog dancing. It does make me feel unaccountably bewildered.

  2. Party this year was so great. Still drunk. Dancing gives me the thrill of living, how can that hurt a person? My heart ached only because Sallie died last Friday and wasn’t there making wisecracks. Lloyd was in good form, we had his Aunt Melinda’s sour cherry pie together, two pieces each. I stayed up past the dawn with Jack, I like the cool way he looks at me. He made real cowboy coffee, the kind that takes the enamel right off your teeth. More next year! More!

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