Back to Boston: Thanksgiving Fever

While the traffic is light, students having left to enjoy long days with distant families, those of us who remain or who have returned, are caught up in the mad prelude to a day of feasting and football.

The aisles of grocery stores are filled with shoppers who, pushing carts and holding lists, have the look of people who might as well be on the Titanic.  It’s a familiar panic, inculcated through generations of excess and primarily its anticipation, and nothing will make that go away until Black Friday.

It’s 9 for the day here in The Haas Test Kitchen: The usual spread of some TBD appetizers prepped by a sister-in-law, two birds, cornbread stuffing, and a mess o’ pies.

Meanwhile, having finished Beckett’s second volume of letters–(To Ralph Richardson’s question, “Is Godot a symbol for God?,” Beckett replies tersely, “If I had wanted to call him God, I’d have called him God.”)–I’m now onto a collection of Angela Carter’s stories set in Japan.

Pass the salt!

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