The cook’s breakfast: duck liver sauteed with butter, onions, dry sherry, basil, salt and pepper, served on toasted garlic naan. I make coping with anemia look vaguely…what’s the word I’m searching for?…inconspicuous.

Happy Thanksgiving, Poor Impulsives! I myself stay home, lock the door, turn off the phones and generally ignore everyone claiming to be one of my relatives. For Heaven’s sake, you don’t know where those people have been and they look a little ravenous. Best to avoid the whole thing by refusing to wave drumsticks at them. Anyhoo, here we are in the early years of the twenty-first century, twirling around in our hoop skirts and marveling at our electric lights. You yourself should take some interesting pictures. In fifty years, your relatives won’t have a clue that you were funny unless you leave images lying around like an inedible breadcrumb trail.

This morning, I was looking in my bathroom closet for body wash because I was out of body wash and I wasn’t going to forget – again – that the bottle of body wash was empty. No, I was going to find body wash in a closet that didn’t contain any body wash. I called down to Pete and said, “Somehow, we are out of soap.” And I continued peering into that body washless closet, lamenting that I had failed to buy more body wash when a bar of soap inches from my right hand said, “Well. Isn’t this awkward?”