I'm cuddled up in my pink fleece blanket, the same one I take to movie club when we watch scary/violent movies like *Braveheart*, and skimming *The Dharma Bums* for class tomorrow. Yes, I said skimming...sadly, it's been long enough since I've last read the novel that even my copious marginalia seem new, or, reflect early beliefs/impressions I don't quite hold anymore.
The maple bourbon pecan pie turned out deliciously, its success hinging on my lackadaisical and imprecise and rather generous sprinkling of Maker's Mark (from a ginormous jug, the dregs of bourbon left over from my famous PhD graduation Pink Party) into the filling mixture. Boozy, caramelly, and nutty--a most lovely combination.
My weekend in Michigan hinged on relaxation--I went to a vigorous yoga class on Friday morning, visited the historica Cappon House with Mom and Grandma in honor of Grandma's birthday, drank a lemon martini in the happening New Holland Brewery with my family on Wednesday night, and shared a traditional Thanksgiving feast with my family.
The train trip seemed to stretch out into giant interminable swaths of time, the seats crowded with train *amateurs,* as my friend M once said about airports, and my wide-eyed reflection gazing back at me from the dark train windows.
Now, a flurry of holiday activity and an overwhelming mass of grading awaits...and then it's back to Michigan to *finally* see my dearest friends who I haven't seen in MONTHS, and to spend more time with my dear family.
I'm reading Amy Bloom's critically acclaimed novel *Away* and very much enjoying the story and her writing style--evocative but not effusive, stylish but not spare.
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