How I plan to rise to the occasion of another Thanksgiving
In the harried countdown to one Thanksgiving feast, my younger son dubbed me The Frenzied Cook. Sad to say, I deserve the name.
Planning ahead is not my strength. I’m captive of the moment, slave to impulse. That brisk Thanksgiving morning, after a walk in the woods, I’d indulged in a nap by the fireplace. Once I moved into the kitchen, the frantic rattling of pots and pans that ensued could have made me songwriter Charles Calhoun’s inspiration for Shake, Rattle and Roll. Instead, I inspired my sobriquet.