Thanksgiving, Part I

The streets of Morningside Heights are deserted, and I hear the sound of a ball bouncing from somewhere. I imagine it is some kid banished from some mother's kitchen, ordered to find something to do so the mother can bake and saute and braise all afternoon. 

My Ghanaian Thanksgiving didn't pan out and so I am off to CC's house in the suburbs. It will be a happy holiday.  I am not saying that to convince myself.  I feel it in my bones.  

I miss my mother but I am glad I am not with her today. Or with any family.  I dread Christmas. But today will be fine.

Professor Dick called again. JESUS. I will send the go-away email tomorrow.

Back in a few hours with updates. I'm going to wear my Bollywood scarf and have a picture taken. I don't know why I want to do this.

Happy Turkey Day.