I’m at a loss at how to describe this year’s Thanksgiving.  I could blather on and on, but I’ll stick to the lonely meat of it.

What I did:

1. Ordered sushi.
2. Watched “The Way We Were.”
3. Gave a homeless entrepreneur a probiotic chocolate bar.
4. Dissected the Amanda Knox Netflix documentary with a orphaned drifter on Facebook messenger.

How I made peace with being alone and unloved:

1. Appreciated not having to eat jello with nuts in it.
2. Experienced the thrill of watching a young Robert Redford get a second chance to shrug off the oppressive yoke of 1950’s whiskey dick with Barbara Streisand in front of a roaring fire.
3. Delighted in the perfumed shame of feeling as out of touch as Gwyneth Paltrow.
4. Most of all, I was thankful for this quote regarding Amanda Knox from my friend, Shawn Doherty: “I’m interested in your thoughts because it seems like all Americans think she’s innocent and the British think she’s guilty.  But as an Italian I know the truth is that it was a satanic ritual.”

Ann Wall’s Artichoke Dip

Now, I get that I’ve been lazy as of late.  But I’m not feeling my best.  I’ve been living  off of protein cookies and fighting an alarming premonition that, very soon, women will be required to carry a note from a male relative in order to travel freely in North America.  These are tough times, so I went back to basics.

Here’s a gem from “The Best of Ann’s Kitchen, Volume I.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dEtFNUZQekc