Recently a bookstore opened in my neighborhood, the first I've seen in this part of town. I, of course, was thrilled: a bookstore within walking distance of my house! Being from up north, of course, I immediately began to worry that it would limp along till Christmas and then close because of lack of interest. That is the pattern in the northcountry towns: open a [bookstore/organic grocery/restaurant that serves vegetables], and wait for it to fold. But yesterday, when I walked into Back Cove Books, the place was hopping. People browsing among the shelves, readers filling the chairs, little children bouncing on the front steps, customers in line to buy books. I had been there once before, and now the owner called out to me, "We have your collection in stock now!" and I felt all pleased and blushy. Women were standing around chatting about "my favorite Alexander Chee novel" and "I studied under so-and-so in grad school" and "have you met my friend the agent?" and I was like, what is this world? Have I accidentally teleported to Brooklyn?

Anyway, I did my neighborly/authorly duty and bought a stack of books for Christmas gifts, and I took the car to a car wash and removed Tuesday's Wellington snow-dirt, and I vacuumed out the interior and wiped down the dust and generally made the car look decent again, and I drove to the fish market and bought smoked fish for Thanksgiving appetizers and salmon for our dinner, and thus passed my Wednesday at home.

This morning we'll slowly pull ourselves together and then we'll head south for family time in a nice clean car with new tires. I hope all of you are looking forward to a good day and a manageable load of dirty dishes. I hope the Bills beat the Lions in a game I will not have a chance to watch. I hope my sons are enjoying some sort of strange Thanksgiving food they've never been served before. I hope no pets get sick on turkey and throw up on the rug.