This morning there was an ominous hush at the grocery store. It wasn’t very crowded at 8:30 on a Sunday, but among those of us who were hustling through the aisles, there was a sense of shared purpose and respect: we were the ones who knew enough to get in and get out before the inevitable storm of pre-holiday shoppers hit the place around noon. I have to assume that by now there’s not a carrot to be found and the lines are stretching all the way back to frozen food.
My pantry has been thoroughly cleaned out and refilled to the point of bursting. Same goes for the fridge. I have pounds of flour in the house. I have tried to remember what visitors like to eat. I remembered to check the date on my yeast. I have extra of the things that you always need more of: onions, lemons, herbs, cream. I have cranberries. I have festive fall flowers. I have plenty of bourbon.
Thanksgiving is almost here! Aside from the fact that my dishwasher has been broken since mid-October, I think we’re ready.