On Thanks

We cooked the bird over the weekend when my sister was in town so thanksgiving is already done in Maryland. I've been cooped up in my childhood bedroom and am really excited for tomorrow, not too much fussing in the kitchen, just an apple tart and some roasted vegetables. We have cold turkey for days.

A thanksgiving without the crammed kitchen will be a relief for a change, a long walk in the afternoon and maybe a campfire at night. Some time to actually reflect on gratitude and not dirty dishes. When you are driven, thanks don't always come easily. What's next instead of a little pause for celebration. But I'm trying to actively acknowledge these things. Parents who are healthy, supportive, creative and damn funny. A sister who is gentle and ridiculously talented. A boyfriend who is improbably handsome, thoughtful and appreciative of crazy girls. A family house that is glorious beyond words. True friends. An old black pick-up that I adore. More opportunities for work than I can possibly handle. A cat that is daily becoming less of an asshole. Flowers, always. And you, still with me after 5 years.

France Palmer's Studio

My good friend Frances Palmer is having a pottery sale at her studio in Weston, Connecticut this weekend. Her pots are something of a legend and going to see them in person is really worth it.  Details for the sale are here.

Earlier in the fall when the garden was still blooming, I went up for an afternoon and Frances threw pots while I played with flowers she'd grown. At one point salted caramels and earl grey tea were involved. Going there always makes me happy and I think you'll love it, too.

November 6th

Things aren't nearly normal in our post-hurricane city. Lines for gas are 8 hours long, my two main artery subways are down indefinitely and there are still a lot of people who are really hurting here. The truck is marooned on a side street until the gas hysteria calms itself, and I'm biding my time flushing money back into the economy through excessive use of taxi cabs. 

Last week was the 7th anniversary of my accident and I'm feeling so ridiculously lucky. I have a tradition of excessive personal niceness surrounding November 1st that dates back to a certain unemployed trip to Paris. This year it was fancy clog boots and a surprise pumpkin pie from Michael with 7 candles. 7 years and I am feeling good.

Survival is the best present of all and it's especially appreciated this year. Chin up, New York. Humans are strong things. Now let's celebrate our survival and vote!