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I’m back in NYC. Thanksgiving was lovely. My brother’s moved and I got to visit his new house. He installed new cabinets in the kitchen and a new sink and medicine cabinet in the bathroom. My brother is good with his hands–he can lay wooden floors, lay tile, fix cars, all kinds of stuff (my mother’s a little handy herself, now that I think of it). I played with his dog. Then we went out to the range and passed an afternoon shooting machine guns (quiz: am I joking?).
|“In the mountains, there you feel free.”|
One day I took a drive outside of town–see the photo at the top of this post. The air smells good there. Clean. Remember that scene in Lawrence of Arabia when Lawrence was asked what attracted him to the desert, and he said, “It’s clean.”? I’ve always loved that description. When I first moved to NYC, I couldn’t get over how nasty the air smelled, especially in warm weather. It took many months before I stopped noticing it.
These are my mother’s flowers:
Instead of baking the turkey, this year we decided to fry it. It turned out perfectly! I was worried that it would be greasy, like a piece of fried chicken, but that wasn’t the case at all. The oil was so hot that it crisped the skin and cooked the entire bird in 45 minutes. The meat was moist and flavorful–even the breast! Yum! And best of all, we cooked it without catching the house on fire!