Last fall I went to an open mic with my friend Carole Crocco. She sang some songs, they were beautiful. A while later there was another one - she sang, I read a poem, someone made me an origami crane. Last week, Carole opened an open mic downtown with half an hour of just her and her music. The place was packed because, fancy that, lots of people love her! I've had this song stuck in my head ever since. If you're gonna have a song replaying in your brain for a full week, you can't do any better than this.
Dear Nathaniel, I am microwaving pie that Mom bought up in Oak Glen this week on her way home from the orthodontist. As I put it in the microwave, I was full of sadness that I was not in Oak Glen with her. Why did I not go? I was working. I want to see the trees turn. I want to wander slowly through autumnal gift shops. Under the water, you cannot sense the approach of the seasons. Even here it is difficult because, after all, it's California. But I can still sense it. After three seasons in Illinois and one in Scotland, it must be with me for good. Or at least for a while. Because I am all abuzz with eagerness for fall and winter, for turkeys and dried leaves and Santa. I should start cooking again this fall. Fall foods are my favorite. Baked squash dripping with melted butter and brown sugar, pumpkin soup... this year, if I have enough money, I will put together a holiday dinner for my friends. And we will drink Scandinavian mulled wine, which is the most wonderful thing I have e...
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