I’ve had one of those weeks. You know the kind: my laptop went on the fritz, my car overheated, I was stuck in a torrential downpour without an umbrella, I caught the flu. There’s that old, familiar saying: when it rains, it pours. And it’s been pouring buckets here in Vancouver.   After consecutive days of misfortune, I spent yesterday chopping, baking and decorating for that biggest of American feasts, Thanksgiving. Worried that my bad luck would result in a charred and inedible turkey, I basted it incessantly. I made whiskey blondies, just in case—sorrows are best drowned in boozy confections. And then evening arrived, and with it, perfectly edible turkey and good friends.  As we sat down to dinner, I looked around at…