I LOOKED FOR PICS OF ME COOKING THANKSGIVING DINNER. NONE TO BE FOUND. DID FIND 3 PHOTOS ALTOGETHER OF ME IN A KITCHEN. HERE’S ONE. MINNESOTA, THE SUMMER I SEMI-CAMPED OUT IN “THE OLD PLACE.” IT’S NOT A HOLIDAY MEAL BUT DOES PROVE I COOKED.

Albuquerque New Mexico. Thanksgiving Day 2014. Low 60s predicted. Most of the cottonwoods along the river have shed their leaves so today’s walk will be on a crunchy path through a tawny-brown-gray landscape underneath the brightest of blue skies. I think the river will also be brown and slow as the Rio Grande always is down here—only up in the canyons below Taos is it blue and frisky.

Can I please establish though, right here, right now, that as a peripheral introvert I will grouse and mumble throughout the day because it is how I am. That is not because I want to be in a crowded room with too many people and too much predictable food with the merry sounds of big stupid guys running back and forth on a field to the cheers of their demented followers. Quite the opposite. I grouse because I can.

Although I will admit that if a catering van pulled up about 1PM, raced in, whisked a white linen cloth and heavy silverware into place, placed fresh flowers in the middle, set down a giant bowl of sage-seasoned, celery and onion enriched, butter infused bread stuffing and a pan of buttery cinnamony mashed sweet potatoes with the marshmallows all melted and gold-toasted on top, and poured a nice glass of champagne for me it would be okay. But in a contest between stuffing and solitude, solitude wins!