The cook is in the kitchen. Today, I am working on stage one of the big Thanksgiving dinner feast that I am preparing to bring down to Pa Skelton’s tomorrow. I’ve got the kitchen humming at top efficiency and have b&w scans of master chef Julia Child stuck up on the cabinets with jelly and banana for tough love inspiration. The pockets of my Ben Davis Printers Apron are filled with wooden spoons, can openers, and a half-flask of Old Grandad Bonded Whiskey. After the Witchcraft concert last night, I have the kitchen wired up to only play medieval mëtal from Scandinavia and Beethoven’s Late String Quartets. One of the cats wrestled a robin to the ground and began preparing her own thanksgiving bird. I just can’t seem to convince the cats to go vegetarian. The misses walks around the house sniffing at fresh diapers, given as free samples at the end of our last baby class. She seems to like the smell of Huggies the best.
Happy Thanksgiving.