from yesterday’s four-minute diary

yesterday, Sunday:

  • Sunny and windy. I took myself for a walk around the neighborhood, because I get cabin fever if I don’t do a couple of miles. I wanted to listen to my current audiobook, Eleanor and Park, but when I walked into the wind it whistled in my ears, even with earband plus hat, and I couldn’t hear the narration at all. I’d turn around a walk a block or two with the wind at my back, listening just fine, and then try to sneak east again between gusts.
  • Sang and Evan had cleaned up the turkey carcass Thursday and plunked it into the big stockpot, where it simmered ever since. Midafternoon I turned the heat off so we could finish straining and freezing the stock in the evening…but then it was evening and we just turned the burner on again. Sang finally dealt with it tonight. That is some nice roasty concentrated stock there in the freezer.

currently reading: My Own Country, by Abraham Verghese. He’s one of the doctor/writers that Atul Gawande listed as inspiring his own writing career, and this memoir is about treating AIDS patients in small-town Tennessee in the late 1980s. I like it so far. I would have thought some of his wide-eyed straight-person reportage on gay culture would grate (his nervous first visit to the only local gay bar), but it doesn’t.


Sanguinity and I have been eating turkey, bread stuffing, and gravy for at least one meal a day, sometimes two or three, every day since Thanksgiving. We have taken to calling it Coma In a Bowl. I am not tired of it at all yet.

We got ingredients for a green salad for Thanksgiving dinner: it seemed like the grown-up thing to do since everything else but the jello and cranberries was beige. Then we all decided before dinnertime that we didn’t care about green salad, and didn’t bother assembling it. But after a couple of days eating leftovers, the green salad was awesome.

Gravy is what we keep running out of. Today Sanguinity cooked up a third batch.