I’m back home at last. Being away was a nice respite, but I kept wondering what was going on in the world (with only a hard copy of the NY Times to tell me!) and I kept wondering what was going on with the blog. And I even managed the feat of passing the entire three days without getting caught up in any political discussions.
For Thanksgiving itself, there was a very large organic turkey and a very small wild turkey with the usual tasty accompaniments, and a few unusual ones as well. My favorite was a mashed potato and roasted celery root dish, which sounds awful but was unbelievably good—and I don’t even like mashed potatoes. But when I looked at the recipe, I saw that it was helped along to deliciousness by a vast quantity of butter and heavy cream.
To me, Thanksgiving just isn’t complete without that biggest gut-buster of them all, pecan pie. But it was decreed by those in charge this year that pecan pie tends to do people in, and so it was taken off the list. Somehow, we managed to make do with an apple pie, a trifle, and two chocolate dishes (alas, off-limits to me; you can find the sad story here).
It was good seeing the family. My nearly-96-year-old mother was there, sprung from her assisted living facility for the occasion. She’s quieter than before, and has lost weight recently, but she still manages to play a mean game of boggle.
When I went out for my walk, I was told that I had to wear something bright to avoid getting shot by hunters. I ended up wearing both of these at once, a symphony in red and orange:
I’m tired—but happy to have gone, and happy to be home again.