Friday, November 27, 2009


clearly, I'm still playing around with the mock polaroid app on my iPhone, and with objects to hand - there is no real reason to put a black and red cowboy boot on the tiled table that used to sit out in the back of 962 N Hoover, of course, other than that I was sitting in the so-called media room reading a clutch of recent books about the Arizona-Mexico border lands, and the combination of bits of the southwest seemed somehow appropriate.

If Thanksgiving is still something of a foreign mystery to me - not in terms of what one does, but in terms of what one feels, the day after Thanksgiving is even more so. I picked up the idea last year that Black Friday is so-called because supposedly this is the day that stores' sales ledgers go back into the black from the red (I certainly hope that's true today in NJ, before the state loses even more money), rather than because the traffic is so horrible. But according to Wikipedia, it seems that I was right all along - that from at least 1965-6 the day has been called that because of the shopping, the crowds, and probably the bad-tempered hangovers. Only retailers turned sulky at the negative connotations of the phrase, and so in more recent years, a Pollyanna spin has been put on it.

We didn't venture very far: the day after Thanksgiving is for eating cold turkey (thank you, Barry, for bringing round some slices of last night's splendid bird and its accompaniments) and starting to catch up on Stuff. Recharging, if not actual rebooting. In other words, more or less like Boxing Day - which doesn't exist here, so one might as well have its semblance now, in November.

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