Several nights ago, I wrote a short thing about Thanksgiving. Who was here (our kids and their inamorata), what we did (cooked, hang out, ate, took time out to watch the space station and space shuttle chase each other), what other significance the day had for me (Thursday, the 26th, would have been my mom's 80th birthday). But then, just as I got ready to post those reflections, my little blog word-processor ate my homework. Damn! On other occasions, I have sat and tried to recapture the fine stylings I'm sure have been crashed out of existence. This time, I didn't have it in me. It was getting late. I was not in my finest fettle. I've made an undertaking not to stay up until all hours committing the moment's musings to posterity (I may have to make room for writing in the morning, usually taken up by sundry and diverse necessities such as The New York Times crossword). I went to bed, and haven't really tried to write since. It wasn't until tonight that I noticed I've let a whole week elapse since last I wrote here.
So for tonight, just this: I'll get back to Mom's 80th sometime soon. As to the rest: Farewell to a warm, dry November. December awaits, just eight minutes ahead.