To read this weekend:



St. Clair McKelway's "Annals of Crime and Rascality"

Geoffrey Household, a new book I found at a mystery bookshop called Whodunit

A bunch of NYTimes Magazines that I saved up, now that I only have time to read the Style section.



In every other house on our block, it's Thanksgiving. I hear someone next door moving heavy stuff and it might be a turkey roaster pan. Of course, it's almost too late to start one, isn't it? Thanksgiving is a day I feel a bit sorry for myself because our little household has no gravitational pull on the holidays. No one really takes seriously the idea of hauling kids and minivans down to see us. We go to them. We also like to travel, so everything adds up to us going away and calling the lovely Angie to come feed the cat. This weekend we'll decide where to take a trip next year. That $200 Expedia coupon offer is burning a hole in my pocket. We could buy tickets to visit another relative but I really want to go back to Europe. N has floated the idea of Jamaica. I wonder who he thinks he's married to. Neither of us tan. I want to go back to Turin, for some reason (the witchy attraction), or to Barcelona. When I have to think of a place I haven't been yet, I draw a blank. I mean, I can name places. But should I take a chance on finding a new place (Prague) depressing when I know I love Paris?