Chill

What a wonderful, restful Saturday. Low-key errands and household straightening, Turkey Trot skippage, and round after round of great food since 5 p.m. -- Amanda's onion rings, Christy's cheesy potatoes, grilled pork tenderloin and keylime pie. Also lots of TV bumming -- more of "The Prisoner," what we hadn't watched of the NBC Thursday night lineup, and an "Arrested Development" disk. I am so relaxed right now.

I complain about the cold but I love this time of year, the Thanksgiving-through-New Year's weeks. Breaks from work or school, extended time with family and friends, good-food overload ... so great. Matt's birthday is coming up in a couple of weeks and I think we're going to go to the beach for a weekend to celebrate that too. (Although, as I've already mentioned, we don't have to leave town to skip working out, overeat and generally be lazy.)

I've been talking about joining Meg's book club forever and December's going to be the month I finally do it. They're reading "Olive Kitteridge," which I read this summer and liked a lot. (So much that I then read two of Elizabeth Strout's previous novels, but they weren't as good.) I also want to read their November selection, "The Help."

Meg usually keeps me informed of what the group's reading and they don't always strike my fancy (unabridged "Les Miserables") but I guess part of the point of book clubs is to read books you wouldn't have otherwise but will be glad you did. Although I will always maintain that not all classics deserve to be classics ("Moby Dick"). "In literature as in love, we are astonished at what is chosen by others." - Andre Maurois

OK, off to bed we go.