I am digging in and hunkering down.
Armed with a new lease on life, as they say, I’m pulling my blanket over my head and staying inside its delicate warmth.
Yes, I am able to drive again. One year and two months after the incident, I can get around the local terrain fairly well on four wheels. And I’m not talking about one of those kids’ contraptions. I’m talking about the real deal. The real automobile that I now officially own. New lease on life, no more lease on car.
Good times, good drinks. I’m talking about herbal tea. And hunkering down under a blanket, not showing my face around town. Definitely not on four wheels. And definitely not tomorrow.
Tomorrow, I’ll be not just hunkering under a blanket, I’ll be literally burrowed into a hole in my backyard. With a flashlight. But no batteries, folks. Because that’s how I roll, in these final two months of 2020.
But before I descend into my rocky hermitage, I would like to leave you with some suggestions and quotes to remember me by, this Thanksgiving. It’s my way of saying thanks to you, for reading this blog.
Make a Thanksgiving plan.
Paul Marber, of New York City, expresses the love and loneliness of the season poetically in the following quote. This is from the New York Times newsletter “Coronavirus Briefing,” dated November 20, 2020.
The Times asked people, How are you adapting your Thanksgiving this year? Marber replies:
“Skipping it. No risk, no harm, no one gets sick, no one dies, no one grieves. Better apart than under. I respect and love my family enough to remain apart so that we are able to enjoy many more years of celebrations.”
Share the joy of cooking.
I’d like to share one more passage from Michael W. Twitty’s book The Cooking Gene.
This book isn’t just about historical-emotional difficulties. Not at all. It’s also about an abiding love, and the joy of getting things right:
“Each vegetable has its own timing; each smell and sound is part of your internal timer. I have gone from burning things by following the books’ instructions to being able to tell from a feeling in my stomach when the rolls were perfect or the fried chicken was done, crispy and beautiful on the outside and clear juices in the middle. There is a relationship you develop with your food that is built on practice and experience, but also on the feeling that you bring to your pots. . . .”
Savor your dessert.
I plan to eat worms for dessert tomorrow, from my hole in the ground. (My chickens will be sooo jealous!)
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I hope you have a lovely meal tomorrow. And stay safe!