Thanksgiving
Every Thanksgiving, I read the turkey story from Jonathan Winters book, Winters Tales. This year, I couldn't find the book. I looked on my bookshelves. I unloaded the living room closet and looked in all the boxes. I still can't find it.
Instead, I selected my bonsai potato manual as reading material and set out for the Chinese Buffet.
The buffet was closed.
I went across the street to the Chinese take out place.
They were closed.
Feeling sad and empty, I went to the visibly open Dunkin Donuts. I bought a large mocha coolata and considered my options. The Indian restaurant across the way seemed to be open. But it could just be the owner's family having a meal.
They proved to be open. I got a very large portion of vegetable biryani (enough for three meals) for about eight dollars. They did not have chalwa.
My living room is filled with boxes that I really should put away. I still can't find my book.
In other news, I went to the grove of the leshovica looking for advice. None of the trees spoke to me. I am reasonably sure she is not mad at me, or ignoring me. But one can't help but feel a little neglected.
Instead, I selected my bonsai potato manual as reading material and set out for the Chinese Buffet.
The buffet was closed.
I went across the street to the Chinese take out place.
They were closed.
Feeling sad and empty, I went to the visibly open Dunkin Donuts. I bought a large mocha coolata and considered my options. The Indian restaurant across the way seemed to be open. But it could just be the owner's family having a meal.
They proved to be open. I got a very large portion of vegetable biryani (enough for three meals) for about eight dollars. They did not have chalwa.
My living room is filled with boxes that I really should put away. I still can't find my book.
In other news, I went to the grove of the leshovica looking for advice. None of the trees spoke to me. I am reasonably sure she is not mad at me, or ignoring me. But one can't help but feel a little neglected.