After a marvelously enjoyable Saturday evening—which I would recap except that then I’d have to tell how you it involved me having three very strong drinks and I think I may have gotten a little too gay—and a very relaxing Sunday—on which I found myself floating on a homemade lunch that seemed to have come straight out of a bistro—the week has been a little heavy. Work bores me to numbness, which is okay because then my brain matches my toes. The end of December rushes towards me and, though I resist reflection, insists with accusing eyes that I judge myself and my year before I can move on.

Still, today held the prettiest parts of the season, and the yummiest parts of the pantry, and all is well until tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.