Random Thanksgiving Thoughts
Presupposing the surfeit of happiness, blessings, and, of course, Food Network inspired cooking…

If you have studied at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, must your wife really have to ask you not to bring that big red plastic cup of yours to the Thanksgiving dinner table? The crystal is shining, the antique silver has been polished, Martha’s hope chest has given up its antique china for a day. So what’s with the fifty cent WalMart cup, man?

Remember that old table that I just couldn’t stand anymore and put in the rummage sale and now I think it’s in storage for Embot? That might have been the table that we use to add a few more people at Thanksgiving. Start tucking in your elbows now, folks.

I really should post (i.e. find) my recipe for Cranberry Ice. ASAP.

Those helping clean this afternoon should know that the longstanding family clean up song, Donald Fagen’s New Frontier*, has been supplanted by Helter Skelter. Loud.

There is nothing like a holiday to give you the feeling that time is hurtling absolutely out of control. It is out of control. We just don’t like to be reminded of it.
For example, Embot is on semi-bedrest due to a spike in her blood pressure. Wasn’t it only yesterday – fifteen years ago – that I was chillin’ and gestatin’ in my nightgown while the family took care of Thanksgiving dinner details? And only yesterday when I could through in cassette tape, crank up New Frontier and Em, Fran and Bridget would scurry through the house putting away toys? Only yesterday that I bought The White Album on vinyl? Only yesterday… This is starting to hurt. Time to think about today.

*Pavlovian Update - I'm at work and New Frontier comes up on iTunes. I am overcome by the urge to move about and tidy up.