It's that time of the year that Patrick and I jettison up to Syracuse for Thanksgiving. 5 1/2 hours west of Boston in NY state (for those who might not know) Syracuse is a strange blue collar city, awash with monsterous malls and industrial blight that has seen better days. With it's German and Italian roots, its hard to get away from meat and white flour while there. While all families cherish the chance to get together on this day, there is always the potential for a friendly argument or two to ensue. For Patrick's family, every year involves an intense debate on the virtues of real cranberry sauce (favored by the New England clan) and monstrosities of the canned kind, favored by those in Syracuse (there is no contest really....) The day after Thanksgiving is known as Black Friday. For those who do not know about this ominous day, Black Friday marks the beginning of the holiday madness that seizes this consumption ridden country; the shops open at 4am (yes, 4 in the morning) and one is supposed to go shopping at this hour for bargains. Bedlam really. Inspired by 'Buy Nothing Day' (www.adbusters.org)  We, the New England clan, took an invigorating walk around a beautiful glacial lake instead. Being Syracuse, the weather was cool and we got our first taste of snow. Afterwards, we rewarded ourselves with some real american food at a real american diner. It's hard to find places like this anymore, but Syracuse has a few relics. So we did go shopping in the end but it was at the massive Salvation Army. I found a yellow check wrangler shirt from the 70's for a $1.99. Now that is shopper satisfaction!