Maybe it’s the fact that I can’t sleep past 6AM. Or the fact that I slept (restlessly) last night at a very cool hotel in Dupont Circle on a very, very firm (and therefore definitely not-cool) mattress. Or the fact that we sat in a lot of D.C. traffic yesterday. Or the fact that tomorrow, it’s back to the real world of work and grading and emails and teaching and getting up early and sitting in traffic.
My Thanksgiving balloon has burst. In response, I’m protesting by wearing sweatpants, refusing to go grocery shopping, making crockpot broccoli-garlic soup, and declaring the rest of the day dedicated to relaxation so that we can squeeze every last precious drop of our vacation out.
What I’m saying is that this post is going to be short. Sorry.
But in place of my words, I’m leaving you with some lovely readings to peruse.
I’m teaching this essay to my composition class tomorrow as they begin working in earnest on their personal Culinary Anthropology essays, a capstone essay to end the semester where they consider who they are, where they come from, and how food has shaped them as human beings.
I was braced for this essay from Food Anthropology (which is a super cool blog you should consider following) to put me on a defensive, what-am-I-to-do, I-cook-because-it-makes-me-happy mode, but it didn’t. It raises some interesting questions about the ways foods are packaged and sold, the good-faith attention that’s actually given to recycling, and the ways we brace ourselves for storms. I’m still mulling over it.
Because we never get tired of hearing about personal habits, quirks, and behaviors of famous authors, right?
Happy Sunday – may the last drops of your weekend or holiday be as lovely as I intend to make mine.