Oh, hey, what's up.
It's the most wonderful time of the year--not that one, but the one that comes before that one. The one where all you have to do is think about eating, and cook, and eat, and not buy presents for anyone, and family members text you to ask what sort of booze they can stock for your upcoming visit, and when you reply I never turn down an IPA, they write back What the hell is an IPA? and you take long walks in the afternoon in flannel shirts and maybe eat a couple sandwiches made of stuffing.
It's been a good semester down here, and I'm happy to report that we have a full week off for Thanksgiving break. My students have been released into their breaks with checklists and graded essays--the last I'll have to make comments on this semester. I have a couple new shirts I like. I got great feedback from the higher-ups at the end of last week, and today we are hosting a Fakesgiving for the small handful of people who are still here in town. I made two kinds of stuffing--one I made with Georgia pecans, and cornbread, so I call it dressing in deference to the region--and the turkey you see above. It needs to be cooked yet, so it will look better in a few hours. Earlier today, I actually bought a wreath. Now I have to write another chapbook poem.
Man, I love this time of the year.
If you're around, come on by. We will open the pinot noir, and wait for this bird to turn crispy-brown, and listen to some music and raise a glass to this time of year, before the craziness of the next month, and just be glad to be sitting somewhere comfortable in a house that smells of food.
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