Going into Thanksgiving week, I can't help but notice that there is something missing. A number of somethings, actually. It's supposed to be cold and rainy, for instance. The fridge and cupboards are supposed to be filling up with wonderful things, like turkey and potatoes and sweet potatoes and yams and string beans and olives and cranberries and bread crumbs and wine and pie fillings. The carton of milk, box of frosted flakes and half loaf of bread in my fridge are seeming less than festive, as is the sun beating down outside and the futile beating of the blades of the fan within. Nonetheless, I'm thinking of putting together at least a faux Thanksgiving dinner for myself--a half of chicken, a sweet potato, maybe a can of carrots and peas. Heck, I may even be able to find a slice of punkin pie somewhere, and then maybe find something seasonal on YouTube for entertainment. It's a Wonderful Life?
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