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It's absolutely amazing and somewhat pathetic how early women will rise on the day after Thanksgiving.

Bring on the cold. Bring on the traffic. Bring on the crowds. And bring on the bargains.

It actually starts early the day before, on Thanksgiving Day, when we rise with the sun and dash out to the curb store to purchase a newspaper. With quarters in hand, we fight our way to the box and battle it out for the few remaining papers. No, it's not our civic duty to keep informed that drives us to the Herald. Instead, we are driven by the promise of what's in the middle of the paper - the centerfold, if you will. Colorful pages that pull out to reveal pure beauty... sales unparalleled by any others throughout the year. Pages that prophesize of good things to come.

Later in the day, after Turkey and sweet potato souffle, the men sack out in front of the football game and the ladies gather around the table to gossip and sort through the sales papers. It's called being productive. Killing two birds in one stone. As we discuss Cousin May's shocking new hair color and appearance at Uncle Fred's birthday gathering and her rather questionable, and might I add uninvited, date who wore his hat at the table and growled back at the dog.

Sorry, got off on a bit of a tangent there. Right Anyway. So, we make notes of store hours and limited-time-only sales and plan our method of conquering the day-after.

Truthfully, there's a lot more to being successful at the day-afters than one might think. You must have a plan and schedule. You must follow it to a T. You must know the store's layout in terms of departments, exits and registers (including out-of-sight registers with shortest lines). You must deny the need to him haw, to leave items and think you'll return for them later, or to ponder. There is no room for reasonable doubt on the day-after.

Clearly, the day is not for casual shoppers, newbies or young grasshoppers.

But I've been trained well. The game is all about strategy. Have a partner. You can hit two areas of the store at once and take turns carrying the shopping bags. Plus, you'll need a second opinion regarding the green and pink plaid britches - never trust the sales lady... she's been trained well, too.

So, with sales clippings in hand, Mom and I ventured into the wilderness that is the Glendale Galleria. Forty-five minutes after initially entering the parking structure, we accidentally landed a parking spot and hit the mall... amongst the best of the best on the front lines.

Seven hours later, we emerged. Beat and wounded, but not broken. And victorious.

It's kinda like an eclipse - happens only so often according to how the planets align, but predictable down to the very second. And something no one with any appreciation of its rarity will dare to miss. Except perhaps Cousin May and freaky growling boy.

Feigned innocence - "What?"

You didn't really think football was played only on Thanksgiving Day, did you?