U.S. Thanksgiving Week Monday. . .

A blissfully quiet, early Monday here at the library cafe where I am checking email and taking care of a few other small things before meeting with (probably very few) students for class at 10:20. Somehow, the four-day Thanksgiving Weekend long ago morphed into a 10 to 14-day vacation, with many students missing in action well ahead of (and following) the holiday break itself.

Inexplicably and imprudently since the end of the fall semester/term comes hot on the heels of the Thanksgiving holiday, and there are always a number of students who can ill afford the self-imposed interruption in their work and focus. But, as the saying goes, you makes your choice, and you pays your price. Forethought and planning ahead no longer seem to be part of the genetic code.

Otherwise, an easy couple of days early this week before The Young Master and I bake a pie or two and prepare a few other dishes on Wednesday for the big day Thursday. Since our respective families are spread around the United States and far from Michigan, and we long ago decided to avoid chaotic holiday travel, it will just be the three of us. But we make it nice with a fully set table, special family dishes that we don't have often, and we get dressed for the occasion. As is right and proper.

Without a doubt, there will be "a coupla three" (as my much missed maternal grandfather used to say) such photographs shared right here later in the week. Stay tuned.

-- Heinz-Ulrich

Comments

Avoid Careless Chatter. . .

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Chilly Late April Wednesday Attire. . .

Y ou know, if it is going to remain this cold and blustery, I need about eight inches of snow for some more cross-country skiing. But since the white stuff is long gone, it was time to fish through the cedar closet down in Zum Stollenkeller and pull out some cold weather attire for a seasonal reboot. But I decided to forgo the usual gray herringbone jacket from J. Press (my go-to tweed sports jacket) and instead opted for this number from Hart, Schaffner, and Marx plus the tan cords that hang on the same hanger, so strenuous mental effort was not required. Pressed the shirt after tucking in the Young Master last night at 8:30, grabbed these shoes, and socks, and Bob is your mother's brother as they say. Occasionally gazing through the large library window to my immediate left this morning, and I keep hearing that old Jobim tune drift through my mind this morning (aided by the windmills), as sung by Astrud Gilberto ( together with Leonard Cohen and Paolo Conte, the musi

The Pleasaures of a Well-trained Dog. . .

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