Suffering from bloggitis...

Just have not thought an original thought in days. All the leaves are now gone from our sycamores, and the atmospheric changes make my head ache. I kept schlepping off the school, but not much else has been going on. This morning, I am baking (please, no applause) an apple crisp for the orphans' Thanksgiving dinner I will be attending later. I am too challenged by crust to do a pie. I had forgotten what an ungodly mess this makes of the kitchen, but no matter, I was watching the parade as I peeled, and peeled, and peeled. All the balloons were nose down to the street, on tight rein, so I guess it is windy back in the Big Apple. Later, the National Dog Show is happening, one of my favorite things to watch, and I will be in the kitchen again, making brunch for my big guy, Booboo, my son. I made him a little apple crisp all his own. I know, I am such a good mother. Well, sometimes. Feeling a little of the old holiday ennui, too. My favorite memory of Thanksgiving was the time my mother, grandmother and I finished cleaning up the feast, and sat down with all the liquers from the cabinet in the middle of the table and got royally toasted together. Three generations of boozy broads. Only in America.