Second night of Hanukkah, Nashville.

I am not feeling great, but I have plenty to be grateful about. The not-great stuff is either being dealt with or will be weathered (e.g., subpar stamina, poetry rejections, not feeling like working on new pieces) and the good stuff includes friendship, food, and forging ahead on various projects:

Last night I pretty much trashed the kitchen frying latkes, veal schnitzel, and yellow squash with green peppers; tonight I mixed the leftover schnitzel and veggies into spaghetti sauce and we had that over angel hair pasta.

I have been reading bits of Elizabeth Goudge's The Little White Horse (1946). Because I am wicked, I cannot help thinking of Mervyn Bunter and Marmaduke Scarlet as some sort of kin.

I met a dear friend for lunch. Highlights included listening to him talk about food science (such as thinking of peppers as fruit and carrots as seasoning).