We tried to put on a good face, didn’t we? I think most Americans did, but it’s tough to scale an occasion we’d typically celebrate in epic proportions for just a twosome. Chef David and I resolved to go on and cook like we would for a crowd, and then to freeze what the two of us would not consume over the course of our rare four-day weekend.

We arranged our spread mainly for the photo op, and then blew out the candles and took our Thanksgiving plates to the sofa so we could enjoy dinner whilst continuing to binge watch our latest Netflix series on the telly; I suspect it’s what a lot of Americans were doing this year. Also, we uncorked the Duboeuf Beaujolais Nouveau because that is what one does for Thanksgiving. The Chef is not an oenophile, and I’m not crazy about Beaujolais, so we raised our token glasses, took a few sips, and recorked the bottle; it’ll become a lovely sauce for something, I am sure.

Flavor Comes from Butterfat

At least, that is what the culinary world maintains, and there was plenty of it floating around our kitchen throughout the day on Thursday.

And now it is already Sunday, the final day of ‘rest’ before work resumes for both of us in the morning as usual, or as usual as our work lives look in 2020. My head’s already in a spreadsheet, and as much as I’ve enjoyed the time off, and the luxury of reading, and going on runs in the late morning, that kind of thing, I’m a creature of habit and yearn for the structure of the daily grind. Anyway there’s really no rest for the weary: I’m physically programmed to arise around 4:30 am, and get going—the only thing to stop me once in a while is an ill-timed REM cycle.

Yoga Is for Dogs

I’m also programmed for daily exercise, including my Sunday morning yoga. Scout has moved away from a reserved interest in this new aspect of his Sunday morning life, to an apparent need to be all up in my business during that hour, as he was this morning. At one point near the end of class while I was lying supine on the yoga mat, all twisted from the waist down and my arms arranged in a T, Scoutie saw fit to gently place his two front paws on top of my wrist and to kiss my open palm. Adds another dimension to practicing yoga, if a slimy one; his intentions are only good.

Healthy Eating Resumes, Starting Now

I spend part of every Sunday preparing lunches for the week ahead, and so I did today. And after all, on or around the fifth turkey and cranberry sauce sandwich, one tires of…turkey and cranberry sauce. Well maybe not the cranberry sauce. Ergo, this large batch of vegetarian chili:

Confession: I’d be okay with skipping the rest of the holidays in 2020, and burying myself in work while remaining hopeful for a brighter 2021. The Chef and I have been counting our blessings, so, so many of them, these last months, while trying like crazy to plan for the future, however haltingly, and to take care of ourselves. The year has been immeasurably less kind to so many others. Even though I’m early by a month, humor me as I raise my glass of fizzy water, right now, to the promise a new year holds.